


Blood In My Veins

by kylar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Medication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Smoking, Social Anxiety, no abuse between kenma and kuroo, side relationship bokuaka, starving artist!kuroo, this thing is gonna be super dark, video game developer!kenma, yeah it's one of these fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylar/pseuds/kylar
Summary: In a last ditch attempt to finally find stability in his budding- attempting to bud- art career, Kuroo moves to inner Tokyo, where the streets are never quiet and there is always something happening. It's also a desperate run from a past that's thrown him into crippling depression and has nearly claimed his life on more than one occasion. He's determined to start new though, to hopefully push past the demons that lurk in the shadows. His closest friends, Bokuto and Akaashi, aid in his recovery where they can, but there's only so much they can do. Though help also appears unexpectedly from his reclusive, socially anxious neighbor, in the form of two scrawny cats, a developing video game, and late night- or rather early morning- talks. Kuroo lets himself get lost in the blissful distraction of it all, but he can only run for so long. His past is bound to catch up sooner rather than later.





	1. You Moved Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here I am again with a new kuroken fic!
> 
> So as you've probably assumed, this fic is going to be really dark. I'll reiterate a few warnings: Kuroo has severe depression, and with that comes intrusive suicidal thoughts. Seeing as this fic is written from his POV, it might get hard to read. It was rather hard to write, I'll tell y'all that much. Also, his depression stems nearly entirely from a past physically, mentally, and sexually abusive relationship that isn't as much in his past as he would like. There won't be a whole lot of detail regarding that relationship, other than in very brief flashbacks and conversations. The brunt of those descriptions will include a lot of manipulation though. So those are the biggest warnings, I think. More will definitely be added as I continue with the fic, and I'll not only add them to the fic tags, but also in the author's notes of each chapter. I WILL promise a happy ending though. It's going to be a really bumpy and hard road, but these boys will come out the other side of it in one piece, I promise.
> 
> Alright, enough babble. On with the fic!

“Bro, for the tenth time, I love you, but I don’t need help moving four boxes,” Kuroo says into the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he fumbles with his new key in the rusty lock. “And they are sitting right here in the hallway. All I gotta do is drag them inside.”

 _“Okay, if you’re sure bro,”_ Bokuto says. Kuroo can hear the clinking of glasses in the background. He must already be at the bar, getting ready to open. _“You want help unpacking?”_

“Again, four boxes Bo. I think I can handle it.” Kuroo gets the door open, finally, and steps inside.

 _“Alright, alright,”_ Bokuto huffs. Kuroo is barely listening, too busy grimacing at his new shoebox of an apartment. At the extended silence, Bokuto speaks up again. _“So? How’s the new place?”_

“My rent is 30,000 yen more here than my last place, and it’s half the size. Explain that to me, please,” Kuroo says, taking a few steps into the apartment.

The place was advertized as fully furnished, which apparently means a two-seater couch and a short table in front of it with a small television perched on top. Those two pieces of furniture take up the entire back half of the front room, a short counter along the front wall with a sink and hot plate, a short fridge, and a low table with two cushions filling the rest of the space. The right wall is only half a wall, the back half open into what Kuroo is assuming is the bedroom. A few steps proves that, yes, it is a bedroom. The bed is a queen- thank god, Kuroo can’t fit into those small doubles- but it takes up nearly the entire bedroom. Against the opposite wall is a small dresser, and Kuroo isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to be able to open the drawers all the way with it being so close to the bed. Unfortunately he can’t see a better arrangement for the two pieces of furniture. Beside the dresser is a door which must lead into the bathroom. Kuroo decides not to bum himself out even more by checking it out just yet.

 _“Welcome to Tokyo, bro,”_ is Bokuto’s only answer to Kuroo’s hypothetical question.

“My last place was in Tokyo too,” Kuroo points out. So really, there’s no reason for the downgrade with a higher price tag.

_“Oume, suburbs dude, that doesn’t even count. This is Shibuya! I’m so glad you’ve moved to the inner city, bro. Now we live so close to each other. I think. Where did you move again?”_

“Like hell if I know,” Kuroo says, heading back out to the hallway to grab the first box and drag it inside. He takes a look around the hallway, noting that there are only three apartments on this level. One across from him, and one between the other two and across from the elevators. It’s a small building after all, so Kuroo hopes that at least it won’t be too loud or obnoxious here. He’s too used to the ‘suburbs’ as Bokuto calls it. “I’ll give you the address when I figure it out.”

_“Cool, you gotta invite me over. Have a house warming thing or something.”_

“Sure thing. Because I’m sure as hell am going to need a lot of ‘warming’ up to this place.”

_“Don’t get all mopey on me. It’ll be great. And if you really do hate it that much, I’ll let you sleep on my couch whenever you want.”_

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever offered me. You better watch it before I fall for you even more. Don’t want Akaashi to have any serious competition.”

_“No offense, my bro, my man, my pal, but competition doesn’t exist for Akaashi. He’s just too perfect.”_

“Did you just call me ‘pal’?”

_“Totally beside the point, my guy.”_

“Alright, alright, I gotta go. And it sounds like you’re at the bar, which means you should be working anyway,” Kuroo says, knowing that when they get going, sometimes there’s no stopping them. Better cut it off before it gets out of hand. “I’ll text you my address as soon as I know what it is, but honestly, you shouldn’t hold your breath.”

 _“Too late, I’m holding,”_ Bokuto says, taking a deep breath. Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“Get back to work.”

_“See ya, Kuroo.”_

Kuroo hangs up and pockets his phone. He picks up the first box, labeled ‘clothes n shit’ and carries it to the bedroom. He really does only have four boxes. They contain all of his worldly possessions, everything he couldn’t part with in Oume when he moved. Well, everything except his artwork and all of his supplies. He forked over the cash to have a company move them. He has too many large canvasses that he couldn’t fit in his little piece-of-shit car, and he’d rather they travel where there isn’t such a high risk of them getting damaged.

Once he gets the few boxes inside and somewhere close to where they belong, he heads out. He doesn’t really want to stay in that apartment longer than he has to, especially if he doesn’t have a canvas to distract himself with. Besides, he needs food.

It’s late afternoon when he exits the small apartment building. At nearly five in the afternoon, the business men are starting to get off work and the teenagers are coming out, so the streets are quite crowded. There’s a small ramen shop that looks pretty popular just across from his building, and Kuroo makes note of its existence. Right next door is a laundromat, also extremely convenient. Perhaps this won’t be _too_ bad.

He meanders the bustling city that only grows more crowded and lively as the sun continues to set. He notes all the shops and restaurants and bars around him. It’s quite different than where he used to live. The downtown area was popular and crowded, but not nearly to this level, and it was a few minutes train ride away from his apartment. Here, he’s living right in the middle of it. He’s not against city living like this, he thinks he can get used to it, it’ll just be strange until he does.

He pops into a number of places to ask for job applications as he continues through the city. As much as he doesn’t want to, he knows he’s going to need another job in order to pay the rent for his new apartment. Not only the rent, but everything is more expensive here. Unfortunately, he’s not going to be able to get by on only the money he makes from selling his artwork.

He’s on his way back home, a handful of job applications in his back pocket and a couple grocery bags cutting off circulation in his wrists when a shop front catches his attention. It’s an art gallery, a number of paintings hung in the window. It’s closed, having closed nearly an hour ago, but Kuroo eyes the paintings in the window display. He frowns, cocking his head to the side. It’s modern art, weird abstract shapes and simplistic styles covering the canvases. While he appreciates and respects all types of art, he could never wrap his head around modern art. It’s just not his style.

“This is why I can barely afford to eat,” he grumbles at the paintings that so sharply contrast his own, sitting in a reputable art gallery where his never have, before continuing down the street towards his building.

When he enters the run down lobby of his building, he eyes the elevator before deciding to take the stairs. When he arrived earlier, he discovered what a rickety deathbox it truly is, and he feels that skirting death once today was enough. If he dies, then it’ll be on his own terms, and not in a freak elevator accident.

Kuroo struggles with his key in the lock for a moment before the door finally clicks open and he stumbles inside. Kicking the door closed behind him, he dumps the groceries on the floor by the fridge and crosses to the sliding glass door on the far wall. He pulls back the grungy nasty green curtains, filling the apartment with the glowing lights of the city. He slides the door open, letting the cooler night air drift into the apartment, carrying with it the heavy smell of car exhaust.

After putting away his groceries and doing a quick inventory of his ‘kitchen’- he has two plates, three cups, a single bowl, two each spoons and knives but only one fork, six individual chopsticks, one pot, one pan, and a rice cooker- he heads into the bedroom to put his sheets on the bed. He’s tired and his new apartment is depressing him, so all he wants is to go to sleep.

Kuroo brushes his teeth in the kitchen sink- he’s still reluctant to check out the bathroom- then quite literally throws himself into bed. The springs squeak disconcertingly, but eventually they settle, and Kuroo takes a deep breath.

Sleep evades him, like it usually does. He spends two hours laying on his stomach, listening to the noises of the city drifting in from the open window. His mind won’t leave him alone long enough to fall asleep. He thinks too much about his new living situation, and even more about the dwindling numbers in his bank account. He needs to sell another painting, and soon, if he has any desire to eat next week. Or perhaps one of these job applications will pan out.

What if he can’t sell paintings here? He moved here, into the inner city, for the sole purpose of spreading his name in the art community. Here in the inner city, he hopes to have a better chance at advancing his art career. But what if he fails? What if nobody likes his art? What if all the galleries refuse him and he becomes just another washed up artists working an hourly job at some shit hole just barely scraping his way through life? Maybe his father would get a kick out of telling him ‘I told you so’. Maybe he’d even laugh at Kuroo, rub it in his face a little that he was right, that Kuroo should’ve followed his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer, a position with a steady paycheck and a much more secure future.

After too long of fussing, he finally relents and dives into a half unpacked box, pulling out a bottle of sleeping pills and padding into the kitchen to fill a cup of water. He downs two pills, then returns to his bed where he continues to roll around for another half an hour before the pills kick in and drag him under.

...

Kuroo is pulled out of his heavy sleep to the buzzing of his cell phone. He groans into his pillow as he reaches over onto the dresser for it. Without lifting his face from the pillows to bother checking the time or the caller ID, he answers the phone and puts it to his ear.

“’ello?” he mumbles.

 _“This is the moving service,”_ a gruff voice answers. _“This is a heads up that we’ll be at the given address in about fifteen minutes.”_

“Got it, thanks,” Kuroo responds. He doesn’t wait to see if the man has anything else to say before hanging up and tossing the phone back on top of the dresser.

With another groan for good measure, he does a push up off the bed. His knee hits the edge of the dresser that is _right there_ and Kuroo curses loudly as he climbs the rest of the way out of bed. Without even thinking, without remembering his reluctance to see his new crackerbox bathroom, he moves in a sleepy haze around the dresser and pushes into the bathroom. His surprise is actually enough to pull him the rest of the way out of his medicated sleepy state.

It’s actually a decent sized bathroom. The counter is big enough for a sink plus a little extra counter space, and the bath tub has a showerhead and curtain. A door to the immediate right leads to the separate toilet and sink. Kuroo can’t even begin to describe how relieved he is to have a decent bathroom. It’s the little things.

Kuroo relieves himself, then splashes some water on his face to wake him up further before riffling through his clothes box for a pair of sweats and a rumbled t-shirt. He doubts the movers will be very pleased if he answers the door in only his boxers.

Just as he’s padding barefoot out into the front room, there’s a knock on his door. He pulls it open to see two bored looking men wearing matching uniforms. One is carrying a clipboard and thrusts it at Kuroo when the door opens. Kuroo quickly signs, then instructs the men to just leave the boxes out front, he’ll bring them in himself.

The first box he drags inside is a narrow box nearly as tall as he is. His canvases and easels are in this one. He drags it to the back of the room, leaving it in the open space between the bed and the back of the small couch. It’s the only space available for him to set up his station, so it’ll have to do. Next to come in is the wooden tool chest on wheels and last remaining box perched on top. The chest holds a multitude of sketchbooks, canvas fabric, and all of his non-standard supplies that aren’t in the separate box. In the separate art box are the tools he uses the most: his pencils and pens, a vast array of paint brushes, tubes of paint, rags, charcoals, erasers, and a number of other things. These three boxes here, shoved in the only available corner of his apartment, contain his most prized possessions.

He drags over one of the four boxes he had moved himself, the box containing nothing but finished canvases. Most have been removed from the wooden frames- those making them too bulky to transport- but a few smaller ones at the bottom are still stretched across their frames. He opens his wooden chest and pulls out a plastic box of thumb tacks. Picking up a stack of canvases, he starts moving throughout the entire apartment, hanging his paintings on every square inch of available wall space.

It’s not that he loves all of his paintings, that he enjoys looking at them all day every day. In fact it’s the opposite with nearly every single one of them. He’s grown to hate most of them. No, he hangs them all up to remind himself that he hasn’t sold a single one of them. He’s had some of them for months, and even others for years. He _still has them_. He hangs them up on the walls as a reminder that he still has a long way to go, that he needs to get so much better than this. These obviously aren’t good enough, that’s why he hasn’t sold them.

It takes him hours, but eventually every single painting makes it up onto the walls. He even has some space for whatever new pieces of shit he manages to produce. Saving the best for last- a canvas he had been so proud of when he first finished it, a canvas he’s had the longest of any of them, a canvas he should’ve sold so many years ago- he heads into the bathroom and hangs it right above the toilet, the only place in this apartment it belongs, to remind him how shitty it really is.

Once he finishes that task, he sits down at the low table in the kitchen to start filling out applications. He needs to get started on finding a part-time job, because who knows if he’ll be able to sell anything here. And he’ll still need to pay his bills even if Shibuya doesn’t like his art just like Oume didn’t.

When he finishes all thirteen of the applications, he decides that he really needs to get out of this stuffy apartment, so he might as well hand them all in today. He changes into the nicest pair of black jeans he has and the one button down he owns, deciding that it might help to look at least a little bit presentable. If he felt like taking the time, he’d clean up his chipping black nail polish, but he decides not to. However, he does remove all his piercings and changes his black gauges to clear ones. The clear is at least better than leaving his earlobes empty and droopy. He runs a hand through his mess of hair as he takes the stairs down the lobby, but doesn’t waste too much time trying to tame it.

Even after submitting all the applications, he doesn’t head back to the apartment. He decides that he should explore some more, not because he thinks he missed anything last night, or that he wants to see how different the city during the day rather than night, he just doesn’t feel like returning to that apartment just yet.

After a few hours of wandering, he gets lunch at the ramen shop across from his apartment and decides that it definitely deserves all the business it gets and is grateful for its convenient location, not that he really has the money to be frequenting it often.

Having nothing else to do out in the city, he reluctantly crosses the street to his building and takes the stairs up to his floor. He’s standing outside his apartment, patting his pockets for his keys, when the elevator dings behind him.

“Jeez I always forget this elevator is possessed by the devil himself,” an extremely familiar voice grumbles.

Kuroo looks up quickly to see Bokuto stepping off the elevator. Bokuto looks up at nearly the same time and freezes mid-step.

“Kuroo!” he exclaims in bewildered excitement. He bounds up to Kuroo and pulls him into a tight hug. “Bro! What’re you doing here?”

“I live here,” Kurooo says with a gesture of his head at his front door. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Woah, so this is your new place?! What’re the odds?” he chuckles. “I’m on my lunch break, so I’m picking up the bae,” Bokuto answers, gesturing to the door across the hall from the elevator, technically Kuroo’s neighbor.

“Akaashi? Akaashi lives here?” Kuroo questions in surprise. “I thought he lived with you.”

“Yeah he does. His work partner lives here. I guess they have a huge deadline coming up. ‘Kaashi has been here for like… three days. I don’t think either of them have slept or eaten at all since I dropped him off.”

Kuroo tries to wrack his brain to remember what Akaashi does for work. He’s pretty sure he’s a designer, a developer? Of what though? Oh, that’s right, he’s a video game designer.

“Wow, that’s intense,” Kuroo murmurs.

“Yeah it is, but they always get like this when they’re approaching a deadline,” Bokuto says as he crosses the small open space to knock on the door. Kuroo decides he might as well stick around and meet his new neighbor. That is, if he even comes to the door.

As it turns out, Akaashi is the one that answers the door, and he definitely looks like he hasn’t slept in three days. He also looks surprised to see Bokuto at the door. And even more surprised when he sees Kuroo lingering by his own door.

“Kuroo-san?” he questions. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t moving to Tokyo until the 20th.”

“It’s the 21st, Keiji,” Bokuto tells him.

Akaashi’s eyes fly open, suddenly completely awake and aware. “Is it really?” he nearly gasps. “Damn it, our deadline is tomorrow _._ ” He turns back into the apartment. “Kenma-san, our deadline is _tomorrow_.”

Kuroo doesn’t hear a response from inside the apartment, but he does hear a _thud_ , as if something heavy fell on the floor. Or, perhaps, that of a head hitting the surface of a desk or table.

“So, does this mean you can’t go out to lunch?” Bokuto asks, sounding completely dejected.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto, I can’t,” is Akaashi’s answer.

“What if I go out and get you something?” Bokuto asks hopefully. “I’ll get something for Kenma too and we can eat lunch here! We can eat while you work. Oh, and Kuroo, you too!”

“Oh, I-” Kuroo starts to protest. He can’t intrude on his new neighbor, especially not at such a stressful time for them.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi murmurs in warning. He steps out of the apartment and pulls the door closed behind him. “You know how Kenma-san is about strangers. He’s barely started warming up to you, and you’ve known him over a year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bokuto murmurs.

“You guys can eat at my place,” Kuroo offers, pointing at his door over his shoulder.

“You moved here?” Akaashi questions.

Kuroo nods. “We can still pick up food for your partner, but you guys can come over and eat at my place so we don’t intrude on him.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Akaashi says. He opens the door to the apartment again. “Come get me when you return.”

“You got it!” Bokuto says excitedly. He lunges forward to press a quick kiss to Akaashi’s cheek before spinning on his heel and grabbing Kuroo’s arm. “Let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I already have 14 chapters written, but I have no idea how many there will be in total. My posting schedule for this will be every other week until I finish the fic, and then it'll get bumped up to every week.
> 
> The look I gave Kuroo in this AU is heavily based off of [ikipin’s style](http://ikipin.tumblr.com/post/163431819617/favorite-babes-part-3423541/) of drawing him. If you aren’t familiar with their work, do yourself a favor and go look because wow.
> 
> Anyways, buckle in everyone, this is going to be one bumpy ride.
> 
> Also: I labeled this fic as canon diveregent because everything in canon is the same except the Nekoma team. Nekoma doesn't exist, so none of the Nekoma characters know each other other than through the connections made in this fic. Kuroo did play volleyball in high school, I'm just withholding what team he was on until it's revealed in the fic. That team is going to 'take the place of' Nekoma, so to speak, in that they have the same relationship with the other teams as Nekoma does in canon (i.e. Fukurodani and Karasuno). All other teams and such are as stands in canon though. This fic takes place roughly 6-7 years after canon, when all the characters are out of college.


	2. Knock Back If You're Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said every two weeks for updates, but seeing as this is a new fic, I want to get it going. There might be another update next weekend before I switch to every other week. But I doubt anyone is upset about that lol. Anyways, enjoy!

“So,” Bokuto starts as they walk down the street to a convenience store. “Day two in Shibuya. How’re you liking it? Getting used to it?”

Kuroo shrugs. “It’s only been two days,” he answers simply. He’s not really sure what else there is to say in response to that question. “Handed in some job applications today. I’ll need one if I hope to afford the rent for that place.”

“Oh, bro, I can get you a job at the bar!” Bokuto says in excitement.

Kuroo cringes. “That’s great, but I can’t have a job where I’m working at night. That’s when I get my inspiration.”

“Oh, right,” Bokuto nods. “But if you ever change your mind, let me know and I’ll talk to the owner. You have the right look for the place and everything. Just what she looks for in her bartenders.”

“Thanks,” Kuroo says with a genuine smile. “So what’re you doing out here, anyway? It’s Thursday. Shouldn’t you be in practice?”

After finishing his high school volleyball career in the top five spikers in the country, Bokuto had quite a few college offers to consider. Naturally he picked the one with the best volleyball program and ended up as a starter on the team all four years. He was picked up immediately after graduating by not only a professional team, but by the national team as well. This means that he spends six days a week practicing volleyball, five with his pro team and once a week with the national team. Unfortunately, professional volleyball isn’t very big in Japan, and his salary isn’t quite enough to pay his bills. And he’s much too proud to let Akaashi’s paycheck cover the difference, despite Akaashi being more than capable. So four nights a week Bokuto works at a bar in the middle of Shibuya.

“It’s my lunch break. We get two hours,” Bokuto says. “It’s nice, because that means I can get lunch with Akaashi. Oh, but hey, speaking of volleyball…. We have a match not this Saturday but the next Saturday. I’ll get you a ticket, so you should come. Akaashi is coming too since it’s after his deadline.”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Kuroo tells him. It’s been a long time since he’s been to a volleyball match. Not since he stopped playing after high school. He’d occasionally watch one of Bokuto’s matches on television, but he hasn’t stepped foot inside a stadium in many years. “So what’s this project Akaashi is working on?”

“A new video game,” Bokuto says, growing excited.

Kuroo snorts. “He is a video game developer, so I figured that much out. What kind of game is it?”

“It’s a strategy game, and it looks really cool. I mean, I’ve only seen some of the art concepts so far, and Akaashi kinda explained the play through to me, even though he’s not technically supposed to. But I get to play it as soon as Kenma gets a disk made.”

“They let you play their games? Even before release?” Kuroo questions, holding the door of the store open for Bokuto to enter first.

“Yeah, after they first develop the game it needs to be played through a few times anyway to find all the bugs and glitches and stuff before they actually release it. Usually it’s people in the company that will test run it, but Akaashi lets me play his copies as long as I promise to make notes and give him feedback. It’s almost not worth it, ya know? Having homework while playing a video game…. It defeats the purpose, bro. But Akaashi and Kenma make really good games, so it is actually worth it,” Bokuto says as he browses the refrigerated aisle of the convenience store. “Their games always release to the PS first, but the first physical copy of the game Kenma ever makes is for his PSP. Yeah he test runs them on his consol, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kenma without his PSP. And it’s _always_ running. I’m not even sure he knows where the power button is.”

Kuroo snorts a laugh, not necessarily at what Bokuto is saying about Akaashi’s partner, but rather at how amusing Bokuto finds it. His amusement is contagious, as it usually is. But as Bokuto picks out three bentos, and Kuroo refuses when Bokuto tells him to pick something, Kuroo is drawn back to their conversation with Akaashi in the hall of the apartment building.

“What did Akaashi mean?” Kuroo starts to ask. He hesitates though, unsure of how to go about asking the question. “What is his partner ‘like’ around strangers?”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Bokuto murmurs as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He doesn’t speak again until after he’s purchased the bentos and both of them are out of the store, heading back down the street. “Kenma is really… how did Akaashi put it… he has really bad social anxiety? I don’t really understand it, but I guess he gets really nervous around new people or a lot of people.”

Kuroo snorts a laugh. “Of course that’s not something you would understand, bro,” he laughs. “You are the exact opposite of socially anxious.”

Bokuto laughs as well. “Yeah, you’re right. But yeah, I never understood why Akaashi always had to go to Kenma’s apartment, and Kenma never came to ours. But then the first time I met Kenma he couldn’t be in the same room as me for more than, like, five minutes, and then he left. His hands were shaking the whole time, and he couldn’t look at me. I thought I had said something wrong, but that was when Akaashi told me he just doesn’t like strangers. So then it made sense why Akaashi always went to Kenma’s apartment. He’s better with me now, but I guess I still stress him out. ‘Kaashi says I’m too big of a personality for him to be able to handle, whatever that means.”

“Bokuto, and I mean this as the utmost of compliments, but you have the biggest personality I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, thanks, my man!” Bokuto smirks.

They enter the building and Kuroo steers Bokuto to the stairwell, to which Bokuto grateful thanks him for the reminder. On Kuroo’s floor, Kuroo unlocks the door to his apartment and leaves it open as Bokuto goes to knock on his neighbor’s door. Kuroo lingers in the threshold of his apartment, hoping that maybe he can catch a glimpse of his elusive neighbor when he gets his bento from Bokuto, but Akaashi is the one to answer the door again, and he takes the bento from Bokuto to take inside to Kenma. Oh well.

Kuroo enters his apartment and eyes the two cushions at the low table, making a note to buy at least one more. By the sound of things, Akaashi spends a whole lot of time at Kenma’s apartment, which means Bokuto will most likely be here a lot as well, which means Kuroo needs to have more than two cushions at his table.

Bokuto and Akaashi enter the apartment a moment later, and Kuroo offers them both the cushions at the table, considering they’re the ones actually eating. He plops himself down on the rough carpet. Akaashi brought his laptop with him and sets it up on the table, but doesn’t dive into his work right away. He eyes the apartment, taking in all the art on the wall, and the minimal furniture in the back half of the room.

“So this is what one of these apartments is supposed to look like,” Akaashi murmurs.

When Kuroo raises an eyebrow at the strange observation, Bokuto chuckles. “Kenma got rid of the couch and this whole room is dedicated to his set up,” Bokuto explains with wild hand gestures. “Desks and computers and all his developing shit everywhere. Literally fills the whole space. Even overflows into the bedroom.”

“That low table your television is on,” Akaashi points out, “is up against the foot of his bed and has a laptop, a monitor, and his Play Station so that he doesn’t even have to leave his bed to work if he doesn’t want to.”

“Wow, so he’s really… uhm, dedicated to his work, it would seem.”

“He lives and breathes video games,” is Akaashi’s response to his statement. “I don’t know what he would’ve done if he didn’t get this job. He probably would’ve self destructed. But it’s no wonder he’s making a name for himself in the industry. He’s great at what he does. It’s a pleasure to be teamed with him.” Akaashi pauses to take a few bites of his bento. “So, Kuroo-san, how are you liking the city? It must be a big change from Oume.”

“It is, but I think I’m getting used to it,” Kuroo answers. “The convenience of everything is nice. I’ll probably sell my car. I could use the extra cash anyway.”

“One of the interns in our building is looking for a car,” Akaashi answers. “I’ll give him your number if you’re serious about selling your car.”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great actually. It’s a piece of shit though, you know that, right?” Kuroo reminds him.

“Trust me, I remember Kuroo-san. He’s a college intern. He doesn’t exactly have a huge budget for a car.”

Kuroo nods and Akaashi’s attention drifts to his laptop. Bokuto’s energetic rambling fills the silence and Kuroo comfortably listens to him talk about everything and nothing. He talks about practice, for both teams, and about the bar. He even rambles on about a dog he saw yesterday morning on his run. But Kuroo doesn’t mind. He’s never minded Bokuto’s nonstop chatter. After prolonged exposure, it tends to exhaust Kuroo to the point where he longs for solitude. But he fills the silence, which is good because silence allows Kuroo’s mind to wander down paths he’d rather it not wander down.

Bokuto can’t stay forever though, and when he stands and reluctantly announces that he needs to get back to practice, Kuroo knows he’s about to be left alone in an empty apartment again. Akaashi stands as well, tucking his laptop under his arm as he bows his head to Kuroo and thanks him for his hospitality.

“So when can we come over for a housewarming party?” Bokuto questions loudly in the hallway.

“You mean that didn’t count?” Kuroo questions. “You’re the only two people I know in this city anyway.”

“Of course that doesn’t count bro!” Bokuto exclaims, as if that statement had personally offended him. “There was no booze! We can’t have a party without booze.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but he can’t help agree with Bokuto. “Alright,” Kuroo agrees. “When works for you, Mr. Professional Volleyball Player?”

“If you want me there, then not until after the deadline,” Akaashi says.

“Tomorrow night then!” Bokuto suggests. Akaashi gives him a hard look. “Oh, right, you’ll probably sleep a full day after you submit the project…. What about Saturday night? I’m not back at the bar until Sunday night, and I don’t have practice on Sundays anyway.”

“Works for me,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto turns eager eyes on Akaashi, who just sighs with a nod.

“Yes! Alright, see you Saturday then!” Bokuto says.

He gives Kuroo a parting hug and Akaashi a parting kiss, then hurries for the elevator. Kuroo calls for him to take the stairs, and Bokuto quickly alters his course with a thumbs up thrown back at Kuroo.

Akaashi heads to the other apartment and fumbles through his pocket, presumably for a key, but then sighs when he doesn’t find it and knocks on the door. Kuroo lingers, despite feeling like an awkward stalker, and the voice in the back of his head questions why he’s so desperate to catch a glimpse of his mysterious neighbor.

Kuroo hears the door unlock, but Akaashi is the one to open the door and step into the dark apartment. No sign of another person. With a disappointed sigh, Kuroo turns to head back into his now quiet apartment. The silence comforts him after a while of being around Bokuto, but he finds that he does miss the company of his friends. As much as solidarity comforts him sometimes, other times it does nothing but make him feel lonely. Sometimes solidarity is just too quiet.

With Bokuto and Akaashi gone, Kuroo decides that he needs to get back to work. It’s been over twenty-four hours since he left Oume, and that’s definitely long enough of a break. If he goes longer than that, he tends to start getting lazy and putting it off. He could also use a distraction from the fact that his empty apartment is nearly stifling. So with determined movements, he opens the tall box and starts pulling out his easels. He sets them up in the cramped space, pushing the couch closer to the television to give himself a little more room. He moves the box up against the wall just at the foot of his bed to optimize his easel space. He sets one up behind the couch, another across from it at the foot of his bed, then squeezes the third between them, backed up against the wall. Satisfied with the arrangement, he pulls out an empty canvas from the tall box, still stapled to its wooden frame. He props it up on the middle easel, then riffles through his small supply box for his pencils. With them arranged in the precise order Kuroo likes them in their shelf, he turns his contemplative eyes to the blank canvas and sits back on his stool.

Only, he doesn’t have a stool. Not anymore. He got rid of it along with everything else he couldn’t fit in his car. Kuroo falls onto his ass on the floor, momentum sending him sprawling out on his back with a shouted “Fuck!”. With a wince, he turns his head to see the end of the half wall a mere inch from his nose. Well that could’ve been really bad.

Kuroo groans as he starts to push himself up, but a noise makes him freeze. It… almost sounded like a knock on his door. Except that it didn’t come from that direction. It came from… the wall above his bed? Kuroo remains frozen, lifted up onto his forearms, listening as closely as he can, as he does a quick mental map of his apartment in relation to the rest of the apartments on this floor. The wall behind his bed would be shared with… Kenma’s apartment?

Now he’s holding his breath in an attempt to hear any possible noises better. There is a chance that he could’ve imagined the noise. Why would Kenma knock on his wall? Did he hear him fall? But why would he care if Kuroo fell? He must’ve imagined it. There’s no way-

Two more firm knocks sound on the wall just above his bed, and Kuroo jumps to his feet in surprise more than anything else. What does that mean? Why is his mysterious neighbor knocking on his wall? Is he supposed to respond somehow? What does his neighbor want from-

_“Please knock back if you’re okay, or else I’m calling an ambulance.”_

Kuroo nearly leaps out of his skin, but then in the next moment he’s launching up onto his bed so he can knock on the wall. “I’m fine. Sorry, I just, uh… missed my chair.” He’d rather not tell his neighbor that he not only missed his chair, he missed the nearest chair by… well, there are no chairs in his apartment. When he had made the decision to throw out his stool, it had been with the thought that surely there’d be a chair in his fully furnished apartment he could use in its place. Apparently that isn’t the case.

There’s no response from his neighbor. In reality, Kuroo knew he shouldn’t expect one, but he had been hoping. Why? Well, he’s curious about this elusive new neighbor who happens to be Akaashi’s work partner, he supposes. After a minute of silence though, he steps down off his bed and slowly makes his way back to his art corner, rubbing at his already sore backside.

His mind isn’t on his stupidity, or on the blank canvas staring back at him, mocking him. That voice is ringing through his head. It was surprisingly soft considering it had to have been loud enough for him to hear it through the wall. But then again, the walls here must not be very thick if he’s having a conversation with his neighbor through them. Or if his neighbor was able to hear him fall on his ass like an idiot. He wonders if that might prove to be a problem if he were to ever bring someone back to his apartment. He’s not exactly quite when he’s performing… certain activities. But as he said to Bokuto earlier, he doesn’t know a single person in this city, so he supposes he doesn’t have to worry about that for a while.

Kuroo attempts to clear his mind from his awkward first sort-of interaction with his neighbor as he tries to figure out how he’ll deal with his lack of an art stool problem. Eventually he decides to turn his easel around so it faces the back of the couch. He’ll just sit himself there. It won’t be as comfortable as a stool, but he tends to lose himself in his art anyway. He’ll hardly notice.

He rearranges everything according to this decision, then perches himself on the hard back of the couch. He tries to makes himself comfortable, but gives up after a couple failed attempts and reaches into his chest. From the top drawer, he removes a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray. He’s not really a smoker, but for some reason, there are times he can’t paint without a cigarette now, ever since a particularly stressful art final in college.

But this time, he doesn’t just need it to work on a new painting. In this unfamiliar, shitty apartment, with an aching backside and an uncomfortable perch, if he hopes to calm down and focus, he definitely needs this smoke. So he props the stick in between his lips and holds the lighter up to it. He takes a satisfying inhale before reaching for a pencil.

The daylight fades and the cigarette quickly burns out as the tip of his pencil flies over the surface of the canvas. Time ceases to register to Kuroo, he has no idea how long it’s been since he sat down, but he does know that at some point he did need to stand from his seat and turn on the lights. It doesn’t hinder his trance though, and he lights another cigarette before diving straight back into his canvas.

When he finally pulls out of his art induced haze, he has a refined outline over his rough sketch and he even has color notes jotted across the canvas. He frowns at the sketch laid out before him, the long since burned out cigarette drooping in the corner of his lips. He removes the filter from his mouth and drops it into the ashtray as he contemplates the sketch he created.

It’s his apartment, only it’s not his apartment. There is no couch, no art corner, and no shitty little television on a rickety table. The space is filled with desks covered in scattered papers and pens, laptops and desktop computers, external RAM and hard drive units, wall and table mounted monitors, and all sorts of other things he hasn’t put too much detail into. It’s not hard to guess where his mind had been while lost on this canvas. There are two rolling desk chairs in the midst of the mess of desks, but only one is occupied. Kuroo has drawn the figure hunched over a desk just off center, hand on a mouse, wearing a baggy hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head. He faces away from the viewer, and Kuroo’s color notes read that the computer screen he is intently staring at is the only one that will be on. The others all read ‘dark’.

Kuroo exhales sharply as he stands and reaches for the large eraser in his supply box. He brings it up to the canvas, but hesitates with the blunt end of it pressed to one spot in the corner. With a sigh he lowers the eraser and takes a step back to look over the canvas one more time. It’s a good sketch, and he has a good feeling about this piece. That’s a feeling he doesn’t get all the time when working on new pieces, so, really, he should give this one a chance. If he ends up hating the finished result, then he can throw it out and start over. Or he can put it up on the wall with all of his other failures as a reminder.

Kuroo yawns, feeling suddenly exhausted, which surprises him a little. It can’t be that late, can it? He just sat down not that long ago. But pulling out his phone and lighting the screen reveals that it’s nearly three in the morning. Well shit. He supposes he should go to bed, but then his stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since the ramen he got for lunch before Bokuto showed up. He looks back over his shoulder at the kitchen, then with a dismissive shrug he strips down to his boxers and falls into bed.

Despite how tired he had felt before climbing into bed, it still takes the help of two pills to tip him over the edge and into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sort of a Kenma introduction! But the shy mouse still eludes us. Soon though, soon. But already, there’s a bit of a fixation on him. What do you have to say about that, Kuroo?


	3. I Got You Covered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends the every week updates. I'm now moving to every other week. So no update next week.

At just after six in the afternoon on Saturday, Kuroo is ushering an excited Bokuto and an exhausted but pleased Akaashi into his apartment. After barely being able to pull himself out of bed this morning, he’s not sure he’s ready to handle Bokuto’s level of enthusiasm, but he figures it’ll be good for him. So he forces on a smile as he lets them in, knowing it’ll probably turn genuine once he gets comfortable with the presence of his friends and once he’s consumed plenty of alcohol.

“So you guys got everything finished in time?” Kuroo asks Akaashi, closing the door behind them.

Akaashi nods as the two of them remove their shoes. “We did manage. We submitted the project last night, so now all there is to do is wait for either approval to proceed to the next step, or for a rejection.”

“Not saying that’s what will happen, but what if it is rejected?” Kuroo questions. He really knows nothing about the video game developing business.

“Then we start over. We either completely redevelop the game, or we start over with a new concept. It just depends on what our bosses decide after looking over our initial design,” Akaashi answers.

“They’re not going to reject it though. It looks fantastic from what I’ve seen, and you both are so good at making games. They definitely are going to like it,” Bokuto insists.

“I sure hope so,” Akaashi grumbles.

Kuroo knows what it’s like to work hard on a project and have it rejected. But developing a video game seems so much more time and energy consuming and requires a much greater skill level than what he needs in order to create his shitty paintings. He can’t imagine working that hard and that long on something only to have to throw it away.

Akaashi’s eyes catch on Kuroo’s new painting, still sitting up in the easel, but now with a few layers of base color. Akaashi takes a few steps closer to get a better look.

“This is remarkably accurate,” he muses out loud. “All it needs is a blackout curtain over the sliding glass door and it’d be pretty much perfect.”

Kuroo makes a mental note about adding that detail, agreeing that it would definitely enhance the mood of the painting. Akaashi makes a few more verbal notes about some of the equipment they use, all of which Kuroo makes sure to remember later. He tries not to focus on the fact that a non-painter has better ideas than he did on how to improve his own painting. Again he thinks back to the skill and talent Akaashi possesses that Kuroo could only ever dream of achieving.

“Have you been to his apartment? Maybe after I left?” Akaashi asks, a little confused.

“Oh, no, I just went off of what you and Bokuto told me yesterday,” Kuroo answers quickly. “I still haven’t even met him. That’s why I decided to put him in a hoodie. I have no idea what he looks like. I suppose I could’ve just painted anyone. It doesn’t have to be him….”

“Oh, well he wears one all the time anyway,” Akaashi says with a shrug. “I heard you had a… conversation with him.”

Kuroo mentally curses himself. Of course, Akaashi had been there. How could he have forgotten that? Kuroo had automatically assumed it was Kenma knocking on the walls, but it could’ve just as easily- and more likely- have been Akaashi. As it turned out, it really was Kenma, as it clearly hadn’t been Akaashi’s voice threatening to call an ambulance, but Kuroo still feels stupid for not remembering that Akaashi had been in that apartment at that time.

“You heard that?” Kuroo questions. Why does he feel embarrassed about it? Because it’s bad enough that his new neighbor heard him fall on his ass like an idiot, and now he realizes Akaashi did too? Why is that embarrassing? He’s done worse things in front of Akaashi.

“No, I didn’t, actually,” Akaashi admits. “I had been in the bathroom, but when I came out, Kenma was climbing off of the kitchen counter. All he told me was that he heard a loud noise and he didn’t know if he should call an ambulance.”

“Wait, an ambulance? What happened? You talked to Kenma?” Bokuto asks in quick succession, looking back and forth between Akaashi and Kuroo.

“I tried to sit on my stool, forgetting that I don’t _have_ a stool,” Kuroo admitted. “I guess Kenma heard me fall and asked me through the wall if I needed an ambulance. I told him I didn’t.”

Bokuto bursts out into loud laughter, throwing his head back and clutching at his stomach. “Oh, bro! I’m sorry but that’s hilarious. Your first interaction with your new neighbor was you falling on your ass loud enough for him to hear it through the walls!”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Kuroo grumbles. “I clearly remember that match in high school where you missed a spike so bad that you fell on _your_ ass so spectacularly that the other two courts in the gym stopped playing to look.”

“Hey now, no need to bring things like that up,” Bokuto retorts, his serious request ruined by the fact that he’s still laughing.

“I remember that,” Akaashi murmurs with a smile. “The referee from court two came over to ask if you were okay.”

Kuroo starts to laugh then too, the feeling warming a coldness that had been stuck in his chest since this morning. His laugh sobers up Bokuto who turns a pout on Akaashi. “Don’t take his side,” he complains. “We’re supposed to be teasing Kuroo, not me.”

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to be on the receiving end of your jokes, so how about we break out the sake.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Bokuto agrees wholeheartedly.

Yesterday Kuroo had gone out to buy another cushion for his table and a stool for his art corner- but not until after checking his bank statement and deciding that if he doesn’t get a job soon, he may need to start spending his nights on the street corner in the skimpiest clothes he owns.

Akaashi and Bokuto each take a seat at the table to open the first of the two bottles of sake they brought as Kuroo starts to bring out the food he had prepared before their arrival. The conversation starts out casual, Akaashi sharing a little about his new game and the next steps he and Kenma are preparing to take, Bokuto talking about practice that morning with the national team, and Kuroo sharing his newfound need to start hooking on the corner.

Bokuto laughs, downing his cup of sake. “I know you don’t want to work at the bar because of all the night shifts, but what if you do it just for now, just until you find something else?” Bokuto suggests. “I mean, I could probably get you started by tomorrow night.”

Kuroo has to admit that it’s starting to look like a better and better idea the more he thinks about it. And in his situation, he can’t really afford to be picky about job opportunities. If one is presenting itself to him, he needs to take it. Sure, it’ll interfere with his art a little, but it will only be temporary. Only until he finds a job with better shifts.

“Yeah, I guess that might be a good idea,” Kuroo admits.

“Yes! Bro, come with me to work tomorrow, and bring a resume. The owner should be there, and if she likes you- and I know she will- she’ll probably have you work that shift. Just make sure you look sexy like you always do.”

“Like I always do?” Kuroo questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, with all your piercings and your crazy hair. It’s exactly the look she wants in her employees. Bartenders that will draw in the female crowd.”

Kuroo nods. He supposes it’ll be nice to work in a place where he doesn’t have to change how he looks to try and appear ‘professional’. There is only one problem though…. “I’ve never worked in a bar before. The only drink I know how to make is a rum and coke.”

“Eh, that doesn’t matter,” Bokuto scoffs. “Do you think I knew how to make drinks when I first started? No way. But the other bartenders will teach you. And you won’t be asked to man the bar by yourself until you’re confident with all the drinks.”

Kuroo supposes he can do that. It doesn’t sound hard, learning how to make a few mixed drinks. He thinks his skill level should be able to handle that. And who knows, perhaps being a bartender with Bokuto will be fun.

“Is there a uniform code?” Kuroo questions. He doesn’t have much that he would consider bartender appropriate.

“Just wear black slacks and a white button down. Oh, and a black tie or bowtie if you have one. You’ll get the grey uniform vest from her.”

“I don’t have a single tie, let alone a black one.”

“I’ll bring you one of mine. Don’t worry, bro, I got you covered.”

Kuroo smirks. “Thanks, bro. You’re a real lifesaver.” Although he intends for it to be joking, in reality, he means it. He really does need this job.

As the food and alcohol begin to flow more freely, and Bokuto and Kuroo both pass from the realm of buzzed and into drunk, the conversation takes a much less serious turn. Bokuto starts sharing stories and laughing about stupid customers he’s had, about dumb things some of his teammates have done in practices. At one point he ends up on the floor, laying on his back, asking for a refill of his sake. When Akaashi tells him that he’ll need to sit up to drink it, Bokuto gets a pensive look on his face and after a moment declares that he can’t sit up. That’s when Akaashi decides that he needs to be cut off.

“Oh, bro, you remember that one team from Miyagi, the powerhouse school that always gave Karasuno a real run for their money?” Bokuto suddenly pipes up, pointing up at Kuroo from his spot on the floor.

“Oh, uh…” Kuroo wracks his alcohol muddled brain for the name of the school that popped into his mind. He can picture their purple and white uniforms. “Shiratorizawa?”

“No no the other one,” Bokuto says, waving his hand to dismiss that guess. “The blue one. Aoba… something.”

“Aoba Johsai?” Akaashi offers.

“Yes!” Bokuto exclaims, knocking his knee on the leg of the table in his excitement. “You remember their prettyboy setter? Oikawa Tooru?”

“Oh yeah, I do,” Kuroo says. “Daichi used to complain about him. He was their first year setter’s senpai from middle school. I do remember him.”

“Well, he just got picked up by our team,” Bokuto says.

Kuroo’s eyes go wide. “The Tokyo team or the national team?”

“The pro team, but I guess the national coach has been watching him for a couple seasons. He’ll probably get picked up there too.”

“Wow that’s intense,” Kuroo murmurs. “Where did he come from again? Kyoto?”

“Yeah Kyoto recruited him out of college and he’s been there the whole time. But I guess he’s always had his eye on Tokyo. Cause, of course, we’re so much better of a team. And, ya know, we pay more than Kyoto does. I think.”

“Of course,” Kuroo chuckles. “How’d Daichi react to that?”

“Ya know bro? Daichi is a really cool dude. So mature. He welcomed Oikawa onto the team like a fucking gentleman,” Bokuto explains. “You could feel the tension in the room though when Oikawa made his introduction. Oh boy, it’s been forever since high school, and those two ended up in completely separate leagues in college, but old rivalries never die, ya know bro?”

“Oh I’m sure,” Kuroo chuckles.

“Daichi was trying to be so mature about it, but then Oikawa goes,” Bokuto pauses to laugh, “Oikawa goes ‘What a surprise running into you here on a team like this, Dai-chan’. And- fuck.” Bokuto is laughing too hard to continue, although he tries anyway, and Kuroo is convinced that it’s mostly due to the alcohol, and not his funny story. “And Daichi… ha, Daichi got that one look on his face, the one he gets when he’s trying to hide how pissed off or irritated he is. Ya know, when he gets that smile that’s really hard, and his eyes aren’t smiling, they’re shooting death glares, and that vein in his temple popping out.”

Despite Bokuto’s poor descriptive skills, Kuroo can picture the expression he’s explaining perfectly in his head, as if Daichi were standing right in front of him wearing the exact expression.

“Did Daichi say anything back to Oikawa?” Kuroo questions, genuinely curious. He always enjoyed Daichi’s company, and when both he and Bokuto got recruited onto the same professional team after college, Kuroo had hoped that meant he’d get the opportunity to grow close with him again after losing contact through college. It hadn’t turned out like that, but perhaps now that Kuroo is in the city, there may be a chance.

Bokuto suddenly starts laughing harder, clutching at his stomach. Kuroo can even see tears beading in the corners of his eyes. “Oh man! So he’s wearing that I’ll-end-you smile right? And he goes, ha, he goes, ‘Oh, you mean the team that recruited me straight out of college? As opposed to the second rate team that recruited you?’ and-” he stops to laugh some more, and Kuroo can’t help laugh with him. “And Oikawa gets the most offended look on his face, it was the best thing ever! I’ve never seen someone get dragged so bad like that.”

“Yeah, because usually you’re the one getting dragged all the time,” Kuroo snorts.

Bokuto gasps, attempting to quickly sit up, but ends up toppled over onto his side. “I am not!”

“All the time, bro,” Kuroo insists.

“But ya know what would be really funny?” Bokuto quickly says, changing the subject. “Ya know how Ushiwaka is on the national team with me? Well it’d be really funny if Oikawa does get recruited onto that team too, since they have such a huge rivalry. It’ll be even better than watching him with Daichi.”

Kuroo doesn’t remember much of that rivalry, other than listening to Daichi talk about it in their third year. Kuroo does remember that match though, the spring tournament after Karasuno lost to Aoba Johsai. He remembers that Aoba Johsai then lost to Shiratorizawa in the Miyagi representation finals, and how they never got their rematch after being beaten by Karasuno for the fall tournament.

“That would be great,” Kuroo says though. He’ll take Bokuto’s word for it, since he doesn’t really remember. “Say, speaking of Daichi, is he still with that setter from his high school? Sugawara-san?”

That catches Bokuto’s attention, and he sits up quickly, miraculously finding the ability to do so again. Kuroo hadn’t really meant to voice that question, and now he’s starting to regret not having a stronger filter while he’s drunk.

“That’s right,” Bokuto breathes. “You had a pretty big crush on him in high school, didn’t you.” It’s not a question, but Kuroo flounders with the need to deny the accusation.

“I did not have _a pretty big crush_ on him,” Kuroo retorts. “Was he hot? Yes. Did I want to bang him? Yes. But there’s a difference between being a horny teenager and having a crush on someone.”

“Kuroo had a crush on Daichi,” Bokuto teases in a sing-songy voice.

Kuroo throws his cushion at Bokuto, and his drunk reflexes aren’t nearly quick enough to stop the projectile. And considering Kuroo is almost as drunk as Bokuto, the trajectory is surprisingly accurate. It smacks Bokuto in the face and puts an end to his newfound ability to sit up. He falls back to the ground in a fit of giggles. Akaashi only watches the entire event with a tired sort of disinterest.

“But to answer your question, bro, and to break your poor horny gay heart, yes, he’s still with Suga,” Bokuto answers when he finally stops giggling. “Suga is so nice. He’s always coming by practice, and I guess he owns a bakery now, and he always brings us stuff that he baked. Our nutritionist hates him. But yeah, and they’re so grossly in love. I swear I get diabetes every time they’re even within five feet of each other.”

“Oh, you mean like me with you and Akaashi,” Kuroo can’t help but retort with a laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bokuto huffs from his spot still on the floor.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe how you’re always making lovey eyes at Akaashi whenever you think he’s not looking. Or how every time you two fuck, you send me a text with nothing but that heart eyes emoji.” Akaashi’s eyes widen and he shoots a look at Bokuto who is attempting to cover his bright red face with the cushion Kuroo threw at him. “Or how you drive way out of your way every day just to each lunch with him. Or how you call me to cry about how much you miss him whenever he’s gone for longer than a day while working on a project. Or the way you-”

“Okay!” Bokuto interrupts, pushing himself into a sitting position. His cheeks are still burning with a vibrant flush. “I get it, I get it. But I can’t help it. I just love him so much.” It’s practically a whine, and he crawls over to Akaashi, laying his head in his lap. Akaashi is blushing too, and a rare smile pulls at his lips as he threads his fingers through Bokuto’s ridiculous hair. “I love you ‘Kaashi.”

“I know,” Akaashi murmurs in response.

They’re surprised not even a minute later by a snore echoing from Bokuto. When Kuroo peers around the end of the table to where Bokuto still has his head pillowed in Akaashi’s lap, he sees that, sure enough, the man is fast asleep. His mouth is open around a snore and Kuroo knows it won’t be long before he starts drooling all over Akaashi’s pants.

“I don’t know if you drove or took the train,” Kuroo starts to stay as he pushes himself onto wobbly legs, “but it’s going to be really hard for you to get him home like that. So, you guys can stay here. I’ll change the sheets and you can use my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi protests. “Honestly, Bokuto could probably sleep through the night right here on the floor. I can take the couch.”

“Yes, he probably could, but his coaches will kill me if I mess up his back,” Kuroo points out.

“Well, if you don’t mind, you two can share the bed and I can go stay with Kenma,” Akaashi suggests. “I need to go check on him anyway to make sure he’s taking care of himself. When we get really involved in a project like we just were, he gets completely wrapped up in it, and then when we’re done, he tends to forget how to function like a normal human being,” he quickly explains when Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s really no big deal. I spend the night with Kenma almost as often as I do in my own home, especially when we’re closing in on a deadline. He won’t mind.”

“Yeah, alright,” Kuroo agrees. He really doesn’t mind sharing a bed with Bokuto. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done so, not even since he and Akaashi got together. Akaashi knows their friendship well enough to trust that nothing would ever happen between them.

Akaashi helps Kuroo carry Bokuto to the bed and toss him onto it. Bokuto doesn’t stir in the slightest, and lays sprawled out on the sheets just as they left him. Akaashi pulls off Bokuto’s jeans, but leaves his tee-shirt and his socks on him, very methodical as if he were simply performing a menial job rather than trying to make his drunk boyfriend comfortable.

Kuroo heads into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth once Akaashi leaves. He strips off his own pants and tee-shirt, then shoves Bokuto closer to the wall so he can climb into the other side. As Kuroo settles into the bed, the silence of the night growing in his ears, he has to admit that it’s nice having another warm body in his bed- even if that warm body is passed out drunk and belongs to a taken man. It’s been a long time since Kuroo’s shared a bed with anyone, and now that Bokuto is here, it reminds him how lonely he’s been. It’s not even that he’s desperate for an intimate partner. It has been a long time since he’s gotten laid, but that’s not what he’s missing. Even just this here with Bokuto is nice. But he knows that in the morning, Bokuto will go home with Akaashi, because he already has someone else to share a bed with, and Kuroo will be left all alone like he usually is.

But maybe that’s for the best. It’s been a few weeks since Kuroo’s had a serious drop in his emotional stability. It’s been a few weeks since his self-hatred and depression has dragged him below levels able to be concealed. But that doesn’t mean it’s gone for good. Eventually he’ll get dragged down again, and it’ll keep happening, so perhaps it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have anyone to share this space with. He’d just scare them away anyway. There’s only one person that’s ever stayed with him after one of these drops, and Kuroo knows how that turned out.

No, it’s a good thing that Kuroo doesn’t have someone. It’s a good thing there’s no one here to possibly witness that kind of self destruction. No one should be forced to deal with that. Anyone that would stick around through something like that deserves someone so much better than Kuroo. Despite how he feels now, how much he wishes this warm presence in his bed could be a permanent thing, he knows it’s for the best that it’s not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to admit right here that I’ve never dealt with depression quite on the level at which I’m attempting to write. So if anything seems off, or maybe even a little inaccurate, don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll do what I can to fix it. Politely, please


	4. Do You Like Cats?

Kuroo is pulled into consciousness by a pounding in his head. He knows it’s still dark, since there’s no light streaming in through the window beside his bed, and for that he’s extremely grateful. He doesn’t care that, as a result, that means it’s really fucking early if the sun hasn’t risen yet. But he didn’t take any sleeping aids last night, so it’s no surprise that he didn’t sleep through the night. Even the amount of alcohol he consumed isn’t enough of a substitute for those pills.

He groans as he becomes more aware of his surroundings. He becomes aware of the radiating heat behind him and remembers that Bokuto is in his bed with him. Kuroo cringes, wondering how the hell Akaashi can sleep every night next to a literal furnace. It doesn’t help that Bokuto’s thick arm is thrown over Kuroo, holding him back against his solid chest, and against his-

“Jesus fucking- Get your fucking boner out of my ass crack,” Kuroo growls, shoving the heavy arm off of him.

Bokuto just grumbles, still asleep, and rolls over to face the wall. Kuroo lifts his now freed arm to fumble on the dresser for his phone. When the screen comes to life, making Kuroo cuss at the sudden brightness of it, he sees that it’s only about quarter to four in the morning. With another groan, he pulls himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom to look for his bottle of pain killers.

Out of habit he flips on the lights, but then scrambles to shut them back off as pain radiates through his entire skull. He lets out a long sigh that turns into a curse as the lights go out and he pulls open the medicine cabinet. A number of different pill bottles greet him, but he can’t read their labels in the dark. Retreating to his room, he returns a moment later with his phone and uses the light of the home screen to scan the bottles on the top shelf. He finds the pain killers and hastily pulls the bottle from the shelf. It’s unusually light, and quiet, and he exhales as he pops open the lid to see that it’s empty, just as he suspected. Why the hell did he put away an empty bottle of painkillers?

“Fuck my life,” he grumbles as his hands drop onto the counter, his head falling back to stare at the dark ceiling.

He stays there, just like that, for a long minute. But eventually he tosses the empty bottle into the trash and leaves the bathroom. Pulling on a rumpled pair of jeans, a baggy black tee-shirt, and a pullover hoodie that’s a size too big for him, he grabs his keys, his wallet, and a pair of sunglasses and heads for the front door.

When he pulls open the door, the light in the hallway, even through his sunglasses, makes him pause for a moment. “Fuck my life,” he repeats, before taking a determined step out of his front door. He really needs those pain meds.

Just at that moment, the door to the stairwell opens and someone steps out. He’s short, black roots peeking out from a dyed blond fall of hair. His face is soft, his stunning light brown eyes kind, if a little shy. He’s staring at the screen of a PSP intently, eyes focused and thumbs twitching at the buttons. Even in his baggy zip-up hoodie and loose black sweats, and with his head ducked and his hair nearly obscuring his face from view, Kuroo is taken aback at how… beautiful he is. He shakes the stupid word from his head, but can’t help stopping and staring as the blond pulls the door to the stairwell closed. When he turns around, Kuroo is still staring, and the blond startles.

“Sorry,” Kuroo mutters on impulse, and fumbles to lock his door and leave. But when the blond hurries, his head still ducked, towards the apartment across the hall from the stairwell, Kuroo hesitates again as things start to click into place and his mind catches up with the situation. “Kenma?”

The blond freezes with his key reaching for the lock. Kuroo finds it cute how his hand is completely enveloped by the sleeve of his hoodie, only the tip of the key sticking out. He looks back over his shoulder, but not fully, not enough to make eye contact with Kuroo.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo quickly apologizes again, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. His finger catches on his ear gauge and he winces. Smooth. Why is he so flustered? “Uhm, I’m Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou. Your new neighbor? I, uh… I’m friends with Akaashi and Bokuto. Small world huh?” He forces an awkward laugh and immediately regrets it.

Kenma still refuses to meet Kuroo’s eyes, his head only partially turned. He doesn’t respond for a long moment, and Kuroo is about to give up and run off, hopefully to save a little face. But then the blond head nods ever so slightly.

“Kozume Kenma,” he murmurs, his voice almost too soft to float across the distance separating them. But it does reach Kuroo, and Kuroo definitively recognizes it as the voice that called through his wall a couple days ago.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Kozume-san,” Kuroo says. “I’ve heard a bit about you from Akaashi.”

“Just call me Kenma,” he says in response. He’s looking straight at his door again, and Kuroo can see the hand still gripping his key starting to shake. Kuroo realizes he must be making Kenma uncomfortable, so he decides to quickly take his leave.

“Okay. See you around, Kenma.”

Kenma nods and quickly hurries into his apartment. Kuroo watches him disappear behind the door, and he can’t help the smile that starts to pull at his lips as he heads for the stairwell. Akaashi never told him that Kenma was cute.

…

“Oh my god how do you not know how to tie a tie?” Bokuto says in exasperation.

They draw a few looks, standing out front of the bar, with Bokuto’s hands around Kuroo’s neck, attempting to help him tie the tie.

“You wore a tie every day in high school! How do you not remember how to tie one?!” Bokuto is getting louder and more agitated as the minutes tick by.

“I haven’t worn one _since_ high school. I forgot,” Kuroo shrugs. “You’re wearing a tie right now, and yet you’re having problems tying mine.”

“I am not! Because I actually know how to tie a tie! Unlike you,” Bokuto snorts. His nose is starting to wrinkle in his concentration. The tie is becoming more of a knot. Kuroo smirks.

“Akaashi ties your ties for you, doesn’t he.” It’s not a question.

Bokuto drops his hands from Kuroo’s neck with a whine. “Yes.”

“You two are pathetic,” an unfamiliar voice says, and then suddenly a short red head is pushing Bokuto out of the way and reaching up to try and fix the mess that’s wrapped around Kuroo’s neck.

Kuroo watches the thin fingers work their magic on the tie with wide eyes, then turns those wide eyes to Bokuto, who just has a huge smirk on his face.

“Thanks Yaku!” Bokuto grins. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” the red head, Yaku, replies as he finally untangles the mess at Kuroo’s neck and starts to skillfully and quickly tie it properly.

“Kuroo, this is Yaku. He’s the head bartender. The Big Cheese.”

“You call me that again and I will smack that grin right off your face,” Yaku deadpans as he finishes off the tie. He takes a step back and bows his head to Kuroo. “Yaku Morisuke.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kuroo replies with a bow of his own.

“Kuroo is my best bro and I’m going to ask Yukie if she can give him a job,” Bokuto explains.

Yaku nods and looks Kuroo over, head to toe and back up again. “Tall, dark, and handsome, more piercings than I can count, hair you want to drag your fingers through, and dripping with sex appeal. Don’t worry, you’ll get the job.”

Kuroo just stares at the short red head, gaping and completely unsure how to respond to that. But Yaku doesn’t give him a chance to reply. He turns and struts- quite literally struts- into the bar. Kuroo turns his shocked look onto Bokuto who is grinning after the short bartender.

“What?” Bokuto questions when he catches Kuroo’s expression. “He’s not wrong.”

“What the fuck? Dripping with sex appeal? What does that even mean? I feel so… dirty,” Kuroo shivers.

Bokuto laughs. “It was a compliment. Come on, the place is going to open soon, and we still need to talk to Yukie.”

Bokuto leads him inside the bar, and Kuroo realizes that it’s not just a bar like he had previously assumed. It has a very nightclub-like feel to it, with strobe lights- that are off for the time being- and two stages in the corner, each with a pole. All of the tables in the front half of the bar are positioned with the two stages in mind. The bar is in the back of the room, and it looks rather bland and boring with all of the overhead lights on and none of the accentuating lights. Kuroo has never been in a bar before business hours and he has to admit it’s really strange. But as Bokuto leads Kuroo through the bar, Kuroo has to admit that it looks like a really nice establishment, and that he’s curious to see what it looks like while it’s in business.

Bokuto leads Kuroo to the back corner of the room, into a hallway Kuroo hadn’t realized was there. There are three doors, one for the women’s bathroom, one for the men’s, and a third marked ‘employees only’. It’s through the third door that Bokuto leads him. The room is much bigger than Kuroo had guessed it would be. There are a few lockers along the back wall, and Yaku is at a locker on the end of the row, changing out of his tee-shirt and into a deep red button down and black vest.

But it’s the front of the room that draws Kuroo’s nervous attention. It’s a makeshift office with a small desk and a couple of filing cabinets. A woman with straight red hair a completely different shade than Yaku’s is sitting at the desk, her fingers flying across a calculator as she enters numbers into the laptop in front of her.

“Hey Yukie!” Bokuto greets loudly, as is his usual style.

The woman doesn’t even look up as she returns the greeting. “Good afternoon Bokuto-san,” she says.

“So, I brought a friend, and he’s looking for a job. Do you think you have a position for him?”

She does look up then, her eyes falling immediately onto Kuroo. He jumps to attention, thrusting out his resume to her as he drops into his low bow. “Sorry for the intrusion,” he blurts out. He didn’t even mean to say that. It just came out, and Kuroo wants to smack himself. Or perhaps bite his tongue off.

“Well hello,” the woman purrs, her chair squeaking as she stands from it.

Kuroo looks up at the drawl of her greeting. When he straightens, she eyes Kuroo up and down very similarly to how Yaku did just minutes ago. Only this time, her eyes seem to linger much longer, and there’s something… appreciative in her stare.

Kuroo continues to hold out his resume and Yukie eventually takes it, scanning it over. “Well you definitely look the part, Kuroo-san. I don’t see any bartending experience in your resume though,” she points out, seemingly as a side note, a quick observation.

“No, ma’am, but I can assure you I am a quick learner. And I have worked in the customer service industry before, so I do have experience satisfying customers,” Kuroo quickly promises her.

“I think you’d satisfy my customers very well,” she hums, looking back up at him. “I do have a position behind the bar available. If you’re willing to give it a shot and can work quickly to learn our drink menu, then I think you’ll fit in rather well. When can you start?”

Kuroo exhales a relieved sigh and drops into a low bow again. It was just four words, but he’s already feeling a huge weight leave his shoulders. He won’t have to choose between eating and a roof over his head next month. “Thank you, ma’am. I promise you won’t be disappointed with my performance. And I can start immediately.”

“Wonderful,” Yukie smiles. “Yaku, dear, can you get him a vest? You’ll be training him today.”

“Yes ma’am,” Yaku says with a wink in Kuroo’s direction as he riffles through a closet full of seemingly miscellaneous things. He pulls out a dark grey vest and holds it up in Kuroo’s direction, then shrugs and tosses it to Kuroo. “Good enough. Now come with me, if you will.”

The next eight hours are probably some of the most hectic of Kuroo’s twenty-six years. Yaku keeps him on his toes, teaching him drinks on the fly as he makes them for ordering customers. But he quickly whips through the ingredients and the amounts faster than Kuroo can take them in. It doesn’t take long after opening for the bar to fill up, and orders are constantly coming in. Yaku, Bokuto, and the two other bartenders working that night, Fukunaga and Yamamoto, dart around the bar in a flurry of activity, and half the time Kuroo is just trying to stay out of their ways. The waiters, Lev, Inuoka, and Shibayama are bringing in orders from the tables faster than Kuroo can keep track.

And also, apparently there is a kitchen? Because not long after the first orders come in, a bell is ringing from a window to the left of the bar that Kuroo hadn’t even realized was there. The bell has been ringing practically non-stop since, and Kuroo is about ready to chuck it out the door. But the waiters are quick with picking up the completed orders and taking them to their designated tables. Some of the patrons that sit up at the bar also order food, and Kuroo is quickly informed that in those instances, it’s the bartenders’ job to bring the orders to the kitchen and bring the food out when it’s ready. Which means even more things Kuroo has to keep track of.

It takes the first couple hours of his shift, but eventually Kuroo starts to get the hang of things. It helps that Yaku eventually designates him to filling beers from the tap and handling the food orders behind the bar, promising to properly teach him the mixed drinks at a less busy time. So for the majority of Kuroo’s shift, he fills beer orders and delivers food. It’s easy, yet also busy, which serves to keep Kuroo’s mind on the task in front of him rather than wandering, which is always a good thing.

At one point, a group of young women enter the bar, and when their eyes fall on him, they turn to each other with giggles and sideways glances at Kuroo. Kuroo looks to either side, to see if there’s anyone else around that they could be ogling at, and realizes that nope, it’s just him. They hurry up to the bar and take the empty seats in front of where Kuroo is working, filling a few orders. He greets them with a kind smile.

“We’ve never seen you here before,” one of them says, and Kuroo tries not to appear as awkward as he feels under their stares.

“It’s my first day,” he responds, fighting the urge to nervously pick at the polish on his thumb. “I don’t know how to make the drinks yet, but if you know what you’d like, I can have one of the other bartenders get those for you.”

They all turn to each other, covering their giggles with their hands, and Kuroo shoots what he hopes is a ‘save me’ look at Bokuto just down the bar from him. Thankfully, Bokuto catches the look and sidles up next to Kuroo.

“Hello, ladies,” he says with his thousand watt smile. “The usual tonight?”

“Yes, thank you Bokuto-san,” they hum, and Kuroo grows even more nervous at realizing they must be regulars.

“Coming right up!” Bokuto says, reaching behind him for a bottle of vodka. “Kuroo, this is Kaori Suzumeda, a close friend of Yukie’s. She and her friends come in every Sunday night. Ladies, this is our new bartender, and a good friend of mine, Kuroo.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kuroo-san,” the one Bokuto had gestured to, Suzumeda, says.

“The pleasure is mine,” Kuroo says with bow of his head, once Suzumeda finishes introducing all of her friends.

“Oh, he’s cute and so polite!” one of the other women coos. “You wouldn’t happen to be single, would you Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo had absolutely _not_ been prepared for that question. He had been steeling himself in preparation for a lot of flirting, whether subtle or not subtle at all, but he hadn’t been expecting a question like that to be asked so suddenly and so quickly. As a result, he ends up blurting the first response that pops into his head.

“I’m gay.”

It goes quiet between all of them, even Bokuto, who looks at Kuroo in surprise. He’s not surprised at what Kuroo said. Kuroo has been out for a long time. He’s probably surprised that Kuroo would blurt something like that so readily to their flirting customers. Kuroo’s own eyes are wide, also unable to believe that just came out of his mouth. He had meant to maybe lie and say that he wasn’t single, that he was seeing somebody. That would’ve been so much easier to deal with than… this. At the silence, Kuroo starts to panic, looking for a way to laugh it off, maybe dismiss it as a joke. But then Suzumeda releases a disappointed sigh.

“The cutest ones always are,” she complains to one of her friends with a pout. Her eyes shift to Bokuto, and Kuroo assumes that they must know he’s gay as well. They may have even met Akaashi if he’s stopped by the bar during Bokuto’s shifts.

“Uhm, sorry?” Kuroo says. He realizes he’s picking at his nail polish and quickly pulls his hands behind his back.

“Oh, what are you apologizing for?” Suzumeda scoffs. “Nothing to apologize for, honey. It’s just a shame I can’t flirt with the hot new bartender.”

“Oh, by all means, please continue to flirt with him,” Bokuto says as he sets a few very colorful drinks in front of the girls. “I think it’s hilarious when he gets all flustered like this. Or, you could just flirt with me.” He adds that suggestion with a wink that makes all of the women giggle.

“Oh stop it,” Suzumeda laughs with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of that pretty boyfriend of yours.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d much rather flirt with Akaashi-san,” another one of the ladies says with a mischievous grin.

“He is beautiful, isn’t he,” Bokuto sighs, leaning his arms on the counter.

“Oh he’s gorgeous,” one of them coos. “You’re so lucky, Bokuto-san.”

“Don’t I know it,” Bokuto smiles.

Kuroo decides that he doesn’t need to stick around any longer and dismisses himself with a bow of his head. There are plenty of food orders that need to be taken care of anyway. And besides, someone has to pick up the slack caused by Bokuto’s socializing. After dropping off a few dishes to customers at the bar, he moves to the back wall to start stacking used glasses into the sanitizer.

“I saw you were introduced to Shirofuku-san’s friends,” Yaku says as he reaches for clean glass to Kuroo’s left. “They come in every Saturday night, and they really like Bokuto so he will tend to them for the duration of their stay. Although, it seems that they liked you, so you might end up taking Bokuto place. You don’t have to though if they make you uncomfortable. They can be a little… much.”

“Oh, it’s fine. They seem nice,” Kuroo says. And he means it. He thinks he can get used to their flirtatious natures. He might even come to like it. It’s not often he receives such attention. And if they know that he’ll never be interested in them, then there’s no harm in playing along with their behavior. Bokuto sure seems to be enjoying himself and they all know he’s not only gay but also taken.

“They are, and they’re really easy customers. They don’t expect anything for free just because they know the owner, and they also know where to draw the line. Also, they tip very well,” Yaku explains with a smile. “If you don’t mind staying after your shift, I’ll start with teaching you their drinks. They always order the same thing.”

Kuroo does stay. He works a full eight hour shift, and then stays longer to work on the drinks in the kitchen with Yaku. They try to stay out of Kai’s way as he continues to fill food orders, but with it being past midnight, there aren’t as many food orders as there were during Kuroo’s shift.

It’s almost two in the morning when Kuroo walks his exhausted ass home from the bar. And in his exhaustion, he takes a few wrong turns. Thankfully he doesn’t get himself lost, just a little turned around, and ends up on a narrow side street. It’s alright, there’s a back entrance to his building, so he’ll be fine. He sighs when his building comes into view, looking forward to kicking off his shoes and falling face first into his mattress. He feels like he can sleep for a day, which means he might actually be able to sleep through the night without the help of his pills.

He rounds the corner and a noise makes him startle, nearly leaping out of his skin. The back door to his complex is right there in front of him and for a fleeting, embarrassing moment, he considers making a break for it. But when he spins around towards the trash collection, he sees a familiar head of blond hair and black roots. Kuroo pauses mid-step.

Kenma is squatting down near the trash nets, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He’s grasping a PSP in one hand, and Kuroo can see that it’s on, but he’s not playing it. He’s focused completely on something else entirely. Two small cats sit in front of him, eating out of a small white plate. Kenma is watching them intently, but doesn’t reach out to touch them.

Kuroo feels like a total creep, but he just stands there and watches Kenma watch the cats. One is an orange tabby, and the other is completely black, nearly blending into the night. They eat happily from the dish, then start nosing closer to Kenma. That’s when Kuroo notices the empty tuna can by his foot. The tabby sticks its nose in the tin, coming rather close to Kenma. That’s when Kenma reaches out to pet the cat. But as soon as he starts to move, both cats startle and bolt, disappearing into the night.

Kuroo clears his throat as Kenma straightens, deciding to make his presence known so he doesn’t unintentionally frighten Kenma. It doesn’t quite work though. Kenma whips around, and his eyes find Kuroo, but only for the briefest of moments before they drop back to the pavement.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Kuroo starts to apologize. “Are they strays?”

Kenma nods, quickly picking up the white plate on the ground. Kuroo steps forward to open the door, holding it for Kenma.

“That’s nice of you to feed them,” Kuroo says as Kenma quickly skirts by him and into the building.

Kenma just nods again, and Kuroo makes sure not to follow him too closely as they enter the stairwell.

“They look pretty healthy,” Kuroo observes.

“They’re a little skinny,” Kenma responds, keeping his eyes firmly in front of him as he climbs the stairs.

Kuroo is almost startled by the response. He hadn’t been expecting one. Encouraged by the sound of Kenma’s voice, he attempts to keep the conversation going.

“Do you feed them every night?”

“I try to,” Kenma answers. “But not always.”

“Is that what you were doing last night?”

Kenma nods, pushing open the door to their floor. He crosses the small hall quickly towards his door. Kuroo is a little disappointed, but honestly he shouldn’t have been expecting him to stick around and talk to Kuroo. Akaashi really wasn’t kidding when he said that Kenma has social anxiety. He looks like he’s about to shake right out of his skin. Kuroo feels a little guilty for even trying to engage in a conversation with him in the first place, but he really wants to get to know his new neighbor. Of course he won’t push Kenma into interacting with him. He doesn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable than he already is. Which is why he lets Kenma hurry towards the sanctuary of his own apartment without trying to stop him. He’ll let Kenma set the pace. Perhaps they’ll get to a point where Kenma is comfortable being around Kuroo, at least long enough to have full conversations.

Kuroo is pulling out his keys and is surprised when he sees Kenma hesitate at his door. His hand is gripping the doorknob hard, but he doesn’t twist it open. Kuroo waits, staying by his own door, to see if Kenma says something or if he retreats into his apartment.

“Do you like cats?” Kenma finally asks. He doesn’t release the doorknob, but he does turn his body a little in Kuroo’s direction.

“I love cats. I had one at my last apartment, but I had to sell her before moving here,” Kuroo answers. “It’s a shame this building doesn’t allow pets.”

Kenma nods. He doesn’t move for another minute, and Kuroo thinks he might say something else, but then he nods again and mutters a “Good night” before disappearing into his apartment.

Kuroo is left standing out in the hallway with a stupid smile on his face for a long moment before finally unlocking his door and pushing inside. Well, that wasn’t a bad way to end his long night. Not a bad way at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenma!!!


	5. Do Not Come Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I present you with more bokuroo bro bonding. Next chapter with 100% more Kenma

Kuroo doesn’t have a shift at the bar the following night, or the night after. He doesn’t have a shift until Tuesday. He also doesn’t have anything else planned for those two days either. And Kuroo can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing when he wakes Monday morning to a hollowness in his chest. He pries the eye not squished into his pillow open, peering at the early morning light filtering in through his window. It must be early. But the crippling exhaustion making his whole body feel too heavy to lift isn’t much of an indicator to how much sleep he managed to get last night, he knows. He’s just tired. He doesn’t want to get up. And without a shift at the bar tonight, or any other plans, he doesn’t have to. He turns his face away from the window above his bed and lets his eyes fall closed again.

But there’s no way he’s going to be able to fall back asleep. Not without the help of his pills. So he lies there, staring at the wall, wide awake, yet completely exhausted. His mind jumps all over the place, working its way through scenarios and situations that will never happen, but that it has to prepare for anyway. What will happen if he never sells a painting again in his entire life? What happens if all the places he applied for jobs with reject him? He’s received five rejections already. What if he disappoints Shirofuku at the bar and gets fired? She’ll realize how useless he is eventually. What if he can’t afford his rent and gets evicted? What if he ends up living near the trash collection with the stray cats depending on Kenma to feed him every night? He watches the shadows move across the walls, the room growing steadily brighter, and after a while buries his face into the pillows and pulls the blankets over his head. It would be nice if his brain would just _stop_. Just for one day. That’s all Kuroo is asking for. One day of peace.

At one point, his phone starts to ring on the dresser, but he can’t find the energy to reach out and grab it. The phone vibrates against the hard surface, the buzzing echoing through his apartment, but he lets it ring. A headache starts to bloom in the back of his head, growing with every drawn out buzz. Kuroo takes a relieved breath when the ringing finally stops and relaxes back into the not quite comfortable mattress.

Kuroo’s eyes snap open when the phone starts ringing again. With a groan, he reaches out from under the blankets to fumble for the device on his dresser. Pulling the phone under the covers, he checks the caller ID. There’s only one name he’s expecting to see and he isn’t disappointed. With a sigh, he answers the call and puts the phone to his ear.

“What?”

_“Why’s your voice all gross? Don’t tell me I just woke you up?”_ Bokuto’s voice echoes through the speaker. _“Bro, it’s almost three. I just assumed you were painting or something. Well anyways, do you have a shift tonight?”_

“No,” Kuroo answers, his face still pressed into the pillows.

_“Cool, me neither. Akaashi is busy with something for work so I’m not allowed to bug him. Want to go do something?”_

“No.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone. Kuroo is about to hang up when Bokuto finally speaks again.

_“I’m on my way over.”_

Kuroo is almost amazed that Bokuto is able to pick up on Kuroo’s mood just from three words. But the two have been friends for a long time, and Bokuto was the one to carry Kuroo through one of the hardest times in his life. So really it’s no surprise that Bokuto is able to tell when Kuroo is feeling lower than usual. But Kuroo doesn’t want Bokuto to come over. He doesn’t want to get out of bed. He doesn’t want to interact with anybody. He wants to be alone. He doesn’t want the company of anyone except his own grating thoughts. Even those aren’t really welcome, but there’s nothing he can do to get them to go away.

“Do not come over,” Kuroo demands.

_“Too late, I’m already leaving the gym.”_

“Go home, Bokuto.”

_“Too late, I’m already on the train to your place.”_

“Bokuto I’m serious, don’t-”

_“Can’t hear you, it’s crowded in this tunnel with no reception.”_

Kuroo can’t get another word out before Bokuto hangs up. The dial tone rings in Kuroo’s ear for a minute before he curses, tossing his phone back onto the dresser. Bokuto can come over if he wants but that doesn’t mean Kuroo has to let him in. Burying his head back under the pillows, he tries desperately to fall back asleep, despite knowing it’s not going to happen.

All too soon there’s a pounding on the front door. Kuroo doesn’t make any move to get up. He’ll leave eventually. After a moment, Bokuto knocks again, a little harder this time, rattling the door in the doorframe. Kuroo buries his face deeper into the pillows. The phone on his dresser starts to buzz against the backdrop of Bokuto’s incessant pounding.

_“You have to answer your door eventually!”_ he hears Bokuto’s muffled voice shout from the front of the apartment. _“I can do this all night!”_

“Fuck-” Kuroo curses, pushing up out of bed and stumbling his way to the front door. He wrenches it open. “I told you not to-”

Bokuto cuts him off by enveloping Kuroo in a bone crushing hug. Kuroo exhales, not bothering with the rest of his sentence. After years of being friends with Bokuto, Kuroo knows that nothing he could say will get rid of Bokuto, not until Bokuto thinks that Kuroo is doing better. Kuroo really doesn’t deserve a friend like Bokuto.

Eventually Bokuto releases Kuroo and enters the apartment. Kuroo closes the door behind him and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Bokuto only mimics his pose, not seeming at all bothered facing off against a man dressed only in his boxers.

“What are you doing here, Bo,” Kuroo finally asks.

“You know why I’m here,” Bokuto answers. “Have you taken your meds yet today?”

Kuroo just continues to stare hard at Bokuto, and after a minute, Bokuto sighs and turns towards Kuroo’s bedroom.

“God damn it Kuroo,” Bokuto is grumbling. Kuroo hears him pop open the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. “I don’t want to be your mom, I’m your bro, but I will be your mom if you don’t start taking care of yourself. And trust me, you do _not_ want me to be your mom. I make a much better bro.”

Bokuto appears back in the front room with a pill bottle, thrusting it at Kuroo as he continues into the kitchen to get a glass of water, which he also thrusts at Kuroo, spilling some water in the process. Kuroo gives in, popping open the bottle of anti-depressants and swallowing two pills. Bokuto takes the glass and pill bottle from Kuroo and shoves him towards the couch. Kuroo considers finding a pair of sweatpants first, but then decides he really doesn’t care and plops down on the couch.

When Bokuto returns, he sits next to Kuroo on the small couch, turning so he’s fully facing him. “So, tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Kuroo tells him, propping his chin up on his palm on the arm of the couch so that he doesn’t have to look into those caring brown eyes.

“I know something happened,” Bokuto says. “Something triggered this. You were just fine last night at work. Did something happen at the bar?”

“No, nothing happened at the bar,” Kuroo responds, his voice softer.

“You can talk to me, Kuroo. You know that.”

For as horrible as Bokuto is at keeping his mouth shut, Kuroo knows he’s also one of the best people to talk to when he’s feeling like this. He knows what he can blab to others about and what needs to stay between them. Kuroo has spent many a night spilling all his darkest feelings with Bokuto, and Bokuto always seemed to know exactly what to say to make Kuroo feel better, or give him the slightest nudge he needs to pull himself back to his feet. He also seems to know when Kuroo doesn’t need to talk, but just needs someone to sit with him while he rides through particularly low points. For the thousandth time since meeting Bokuto, Kuroo realizes just how much he doesn’t deserve a friend like him.

“When I got home from work and checked my phone, I had three messages,” Kuroo starts to tell him. Bokuto just nods, not interrupting, waiting for Kuroo to continue. “Two were them were job rejections. That makes five now.”

“Well you still have a bunch of other applications out there right?” Bokuto responds. “You can’t let that get you down too much. And besides, you have a job right now, and that’s what matters right? You can keep trying with the comfort of knowing that you have a backup. You have a steady paycheck while you find a job that will better suit your schedule.”

“But what if I fuck up and I don’t have this job anymore?” Kuroo can’t help but voice his worries.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Bokuto tells him. “Yukie’s friends absolutely love you, and I guess they told her that last night before they left. After you left, Yukie mentioned how impressed she was with your performance, being your first shift on such a busy night. She was impressed with how well you managed to keep up. And I guess that Yukie’s friends weren’t the only customers that had good things to say about you. So I don’t think she’ll fire you any time soon. In fact, she’ll probably be really disappointed when you leave.”

Kuroo frowns. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No I’m not!” Bokuto quickly argues. “I would never lie to a bro about something like this. She actually said those things.”

Kuroo has to admit that knowing that does make him feel a little better. He really had been worried about being fired from the bar, and he really needs that job right now. But if Shirofuku really was impressed with him, then he just has to make sure he continues to impress her. He had been afraid that, because she didn’t schedule him for the next two days, that he had disappointed her somehow. But maybe that’s not what happened. Perhaps, since he was hired so abruptly, she didn’t have any other open shifts to give him. Maybe this really isn’t as bad as he had been making it out in his head to be.

“So what was the other missed call about?” Bokuto asks after a long silence starts to stretch out between them.

Kuroo tenses. This is what he really doesn’t want to talk about. He shouldn’t have said that he had three messages. He should’ve only told him about the other two. Just remembering that message sends his heart racing. He doesn’t want to talk about him, he doesn’t want to _think_ about him.

At Kuroo’s tense silence, Bokuto makes a guess. This has happened enough times before for him to have an idea about who the caller was. “It was him, wasn’t it?” Bokuto murmurs, his voice soft and cautions, as it always is when this topic is brought up.

Kuroo doesn’t have to confirm his guess. Bokuto knows exactly who called Kuroo last night. His hands are shaking, so he plants them over his face, hunching over so his elbows are propped up on his knees. “He found out I moved. He’s angry.” He only barely manages to keep his voice from shaking like his hands.

Bokuto tenses. “You… you don’t think he’ll come here after you, do you?” Bokuto questions hesitantly.

Kuroo shrugs, a rough motion with how he’s bowed over, the heels of his hands still digging into his eyes. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know. He could.”

Bokuto sighs and pats Kuroo hard, yet somehow comfortingly on the back. “I know I tell you this every time he contacts you, and you never listen to me, but I’m going to say it again. You really should report him to the police. I know they probably won’t do much, but you never know. It could help.”

Kuroo doesn’t respond, but he knows he can’t do that. He can’t report him, because it’s Kuroo’s fault. Kuroo deserved everything that he did to him. He deserved all of it.

He doesn’t want to think about him anymore. He needs to change the subject before he goes completely crazy, before he loses his mind. It was just one phone call. He’s so far away now. He’s not going to find Kuroo here.

“Kenma likes to feed the cats behind the building in the middle of the night,” Kuroo mutters into his hands.

“You met Kenma?” Bokuto asks in surprise.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says as he straightens. “He was feeding the cats when I got back from the bar. But that wasn’t the first time I ran into him. The night you stayed over, I ran into him when I went out to get more pain killers.”

“Oh,” Bokuto hums. “And?”

“And what?”

“It just seemed like you were going somewhere with that,” Bokuto shrugs, and a smirk is starting to pull at his lips. Kuroo doesn’t want to know what could possibly be going through his head right now.

“No, I was just mentioning it,” Kuroo says. “He seems… nice though. Well, from what I could tell by our brief conversations. He didn’t exactly stick around to talk for a while.”

Bokuto nods with a smile. “It’s cool that he talked to you at all. ‘Kaashi will be proud of him.” Bokuto turns that smirk back onto Kuroo. “So, do you like him?”

Kuroo scoffs. “I don’t even know him.”

“But you said you talked to him!”

“I exchanged a few sentences with him. I didn’t want to push him into talking longer than he was comfortable with,” Kuroo says.

“Yeah, but it only took one look for me to know that Akaashi was my soul mate,” Bokuto points out.

“Well we’re not all like you. Kenma is just my neighbor,” Kuroo responds. He pauses for a moment though, looking down at his hands in his lap. “You never told me he was cute.”

Bokuto’s smirk grows, threatening to split his face in two. He punches Kuroo in the shoulder. “You _do_ like him!”

“I do not,” Kuroo argues quickly. “I just said he’s cute.”

“You like him,” Bokuto nearly sings.

“No I don’t.” But his protests are growing weaker. It’s hard to argue with Bokuto when he sets his mind on something.

Bokuto doesn’t press, but he’s still grinning as he leans back into the couch. “How about we play some games and talk more about your little crush. It always makes you feel better when I kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

“Okay, I count three errors in that statement. First, I do not have a crush. Second, that would make me feel the opposite of ‘better’. And finally, you have never kicked my ass in the entire history of playing Mario Kart.”

“Them’s fightin’ words,” Bokuto grins, reaching towards one of the consoles next to the television.

“You’re on, bro,” Kuroo challenges, snatching up a controller. “I’m going to kick your ass like I always do.”

As the game starts up and they both lean forward on the couch, Kuroo decides that maybe it was a good idea that Bokuto came over after all. He still feels that emptiness in his chest, that weight holding him just under the surface, but he has to admit that Bokuto has made him feel a little better. Even after talking about _him_ , Kuroo doesn’t feel nearly as low as he did last night after listening to that message. Bokuto’s enthusiasm is contagious, and Kuroo can’t help but feel a little lifted just by speaking with him. Even if he hadn’t talked about what was eating at him, even if he hadn’t let anything off his chest, he feels like he’d still be feeling a bit better, just because of Bokuto’s presence. Who knows what will happen when Bokuto has to leave, but for now, Kuroo isn’t drowning, and that’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where I do the begging author thing and tell y'all that your comments fuel my writing :)


	6. We All Have Our Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the tip of the iceberg of Kuroo's past abusive relationship is revealed. So this is where I take the time to direct you back to the tags and warn you that they apply very heavily to this chapter. It doesn't go in depth, rather just Kuroo recalling what his past relationship was like, but I feel the need to warn you anyway.
> 
> Also thank you to everyone that commented on the last chapter. I got so many wonderful reviews, so many heartfelt comments. Thank you to everyone that read, and a special thanks to everyone that commented. You guys are awesome.

All Kuroo can see is color. Colors smeared in globs on his palette. Colors swirling through the murky water in his cup. Colors dying the end of his paintbrush. Colors exploding across an empty canvas. They’re dark colors though. Lots of shadows and hidden corners. The only colors that stand out are the blue of a hoodie and the white glow of a computer screen. Everything else only hints at color. Perhaps the vacant chair is some shade of red. Perhaps if the room wasn’t so dark the walls would have a light beige color. Maybe, if the light of the computer reached further, it’d reveal a greenish tinge to the carpet. The coffee cup perched on the desk by an elbow hints at a yellow gloss.

Kuroo is drawn out of his trance with an ache in his back. He straightens on his stool, carefully cleaning his brush before standing and stretching towards the ceiling. His fingers nearly brush. Knots in his spine pop once, twice, a third time before he falls back onto his heels. The cigarette hanging at the corner of his lips is burned down to the filter, so he tosses it into the ashtray. With a peek at the time, he realizes that it’s nearly three in the morning, and that he’s been cooped up in his apartment for two straight days.

Bokuto’s visit wasn’t a miracle cure to his episode. Sure it helped a little, but as soon as he left, it didn’t take much for Kuroo to plummet back down. Too tired to do anything but too awake to sleep, he simply laid on that dingy couch for hours, staring at the ceiling while the absence of Bokuto’s ranting monologues allowed his mind to wander into unpleasant thoughts. He thought mostly about the things that always liked to drag his mood into the gutter: his failing art career, his desperation to make a living, and his fear of disappointing everyone around him. But last night, a very persistent train of thought was… him.

It’s been years since Kuroo forced him from his life. Kuroo hasn’t even seen his face since his third year at art school, when he finally realized he needed to leave that relationship before it killed him. That didn’t stop him from calling Kuroo, from keeping tabs on him, from reminding him of his existence, of how upset he was for being brushed aside like that. Kuroo admits that, maybe he was too hard on him. Maybe he should’ve given him another chance. Those thoughts weighed heavily on him the first year or two after calling it off. Eventually Bokuto and Akaashi managed to convince him it was the right thing to do. But that doesn’t stop the guilt. And every time Daishou Suguru calls him, it reminds Kuroo just how guilty he feels.

But it’s not just the guilt he’s reminded of every time he hears that voice. He’s reminded of the pain, of the manipulating words, of his worthlessness, of his dreams being ripped out from underneath him, of the crippling depression that kept Kuroo so low throughout that entire relationship. He’s reminded of that sweet smile that Kuroo only realized was fake after he had left. He’s reminded of biting words and commands. He’s reminded of the lies and false promises. He’s reminded what it felt like to be so completely under the power of someone else. He’s reminded of his first suicide attempt, his second, his third.

Every time Daishou calls him, every time he’s forced to listen to that sickly sweet voice promise to treat Kuroo better if he were to give him a second chance, Kuroo is reminded of it all. And every time it makes Kuroo sick. It makes him upset. It makes him numb, just like he was for four years of his life. Four wasted years. He often wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t agreed to date Daishou in his final year of high school. He had wanted to continue playing volleyball in college, to aim for the professional leagues like Bokuto and Daichi, but “You know, Kuroo dear, don’t you think it’d be so straining on our relationship if we were both competing at that level?”, so he gave that up. He wanted to keep in touch with his friends after high school, especially Bokuto and Daichi, but “That Bokuto is too comfortable with you, Kuroo dear, and you don’t want to make me jealous, do you?”. He clearly remembers the pain every time Daishou caught him messaging Bokuto. He wanted to accept the scholarship offer to that very prestigious art school in Osaka that would’ve given him all the skills and connections he needed to succeed in an art career, but “You don’t really want to leave me, do you Kuroo dear? I can take care of you here. You don’t need that school.” So he stayed. Where would he be now if he had continued playing volleyball? Or had gone to that art school? What would’ve happened if he hadn’t given up so much for that man? How much better would his life be now? His depression didn’t manifest until after he started seeing Daishou. Would it never have manifested at all if he had left so much sooner? Would he actually be happy? Or would he have realized on his own, without reminding from Daishou, how worthless and pathetic and how much of a waste of life he is?

It’s these thoughts that plagued Kuroo that night after Bokuto left, taking his distraction with him. It’s these thoughts that didn’t allow Kuroo much sleep, and that kept him in bed until early this afternoon. Painting this afternoon had served as a good distraction, and with the assistance of his anti-depressants, he managed to pull himself up, if only barely.

Kuroo glances at the time on his phone again. At this time Kenma might be out feeding the cats. He knows that Kenma was out two nights ago, and the night before that, and that he said he doesn’t go out every night, but what’s the harm in checking? He has nothing better to do right now anyway. He decides not to get into _why_ he wants to go check as he riffles through his fridge for the carton of milk that he knows is close to expiring. Shaking it, he determines that there’s not much left in the bottom, which is perfect. Pulling on his shoes and shrugging into his zip up, he leaves the apartment, not really caring that he’s in a ratty tee-shirt and sweats, both covered in paint.

When he opens the back door of the building, he’s actually surprised to see that Kenma is out there. He hadn’t actually been expecting him to be out here this night at this exact time. But there he is, sitting cross legged on the pavement in front of a dish of food. The cats are nowhere to be found, the food untouched, and he has his head ducked over his PSP, rapidly pushing at the buttons. He must not have been out here long.

When the door opens, Kenma looks up from his game, then back down again. Kuroo crosses the short distance, but hesitates a few feet away from Kenma.

“Mind if I join you?” Kuroo asks, holding up the carton of milk.

Kenma shakes his head. “But cats aren’t technically supposed to drink milk,” he says, his voice just as soft as it always is.

Kuroo freezes in surprise half way to the pavement. “Really?” he questions, slowly sitting the rest of the way.

“Adult cats can be lactose intolerant,” Kenma tells him, his fingers moving across the buttons of his PSP again. Kuroo notices that his hands aren’t shaking and that his shoulders aren’t tensed like they usually are when Kuroo tries to talk with him.

“Are you telling me that the entire seven years I owned my cat, I was slowly killing her?”

“It’s not fatal,” Kenma says, obviously not picking up Kuroo’s sarcasm. “They just can’t digest it very well.”

“Huh,” Kuroo huffs. “I didn’t know that.”

Kuroo pops open the carton and lifts it to his mouth, draining the little bit left before tossing the empty container into the trash collection. He catches Kenma’s eyes glance at him quickly before turning back to his game. Kuroo wonders if it’s the game he just finished developing with Akaashi.

“Were you painting?” Kenma suddenly questions.

Kuroo glances down at his paint splattered shirt. “Oh, yeah, I paint. It’s actually why I moved here. My art wasn’t getting as much recognition as I would’ve liked out in the suburbs. I’m hoping I can change that here.”

Kenma doesn’t respond for a long minute, his brow furrowing as he concentrates particularly hard on his game. His tongue even starts to peek out from the corner of his lips and Kuroo can’t help but think how cute that is.

“What do you paint?”

“All sorts of things,” Kuroo answers with a shrug. “I like to paint the crazy shit that pops into my head, but mostly I try to paint landscapes and a nature focus. I know, it’s not very original, but that’s what people want to buy.”

“It’s hard, catering to the public,” Kenma responds, his words slow with his split concentration. He tilts his PSP a little and Kuroo finds himself mesmerized with how he plays on that handheld. All his little motions and expressions are really… cute. And he really needs to stop using that word.

“Ah, yeah I supposed you would know just as well as I do what that’s like,” Kuroo says. “Akaashi talks about your work a lot. It seems… challenging.”

Kenma nods. “It can be. But I like it.”

“Have you guys heard any word from your company about the game yet?”

Kenma shrugs. “I don’t know. Keiji deals with all of that stuff so I don’t have to talk to….”

He trails off, and Kuroo notes the bit of tension in his shoulders. He doesn’t want to talk about his anxiety. Which of course is expected. It’s not exactly something one would enjoy advertising, and Kuroo feels a little bad that he already knows about it.

“Well, Bokuto seems to be over the moon about it, so hopefully that means your boss will be too,” Kuroo says, quick to turn the attention from Kenma’s near slip. He sees Kenma’s shoulders relax a little and Kuroo relaxes as well.

Kenma looks up from the game then, not quite at Kuroo of course, but close enough. He stares at a spot somewhere on Kuroo’s shirt as he holds out his PSP.

“Would you like to play it?” he asks.

Kuroo’s eyes widen a little bit. “Are you serious? Is that okay?”

Kenma nods, and Kuroo scoots closer to Kenma so he can tentatively reach for the device. He notes all the dings, chipped paint, and worn out buttons on the well loved handheld. “Technically we’re not allowed to share the game with anyone until the copyright gets accepted, but it’s alright for you to play, just like Bokuto-san.”

Kuroo smirks as he shifts his eyes to the main menu of the game. He immediately notes the heavy fantasy themes. Kuroo likes it already. “I’m not sure if that speaks more to your trust in me not to steal your ideas, or your lack of faith in my skills to be able to steal your ideas.”

“I don’t think you have either the resources or the ability to rip off my game,” Kenma deadpans.

“Ouch,” Kuroo hisses, but can’t get rid of his smirk. When he glances up at Kenma, he sees the hint of a smile on his lips and nearly drops the device.

“There is a catch to playing my game though,” Kenma says.

Kuroo grins. “I need to give you constructive feedback and note all the glitches or bugs?”

Kenma glances up at him, again locking on a spot on Kuroo’s shirt rather than meeting his eyes.

“Bokuto receives the same catch from Akaashi,” Kuroo says. “He calls it ‘homework’, and he also says that it’s the only homework that’s worth it.”

Kenma nods, looking back down at the full dish in front of him. They fall silent for a few minutes, the only sounds between them echoing softly from the speakers on the handheld. Kuroo nearly gets lost in the game, and he probably would if not for the person he’s seated next to that keeps grabbing his attention. It really is a good game.

“I’m sorry for my… rudeness in our interactions the last couple of days,” Kenma suddenly says.

Kuroo pauses the game to look up at him. His hands are shaking now as they tightly grip the loose fabric of his hoodie sleeves. His eyes are boring into the dish, refusing to come anywhere near Kuroo.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Kuroo is quick to reassure him, keeping his voice as calm and unfazed as possible, hopefully to show Kenma that it really wasn’t an issue. “You weren’t being rude. I was the one making you uncomfortable. I should be the one apologizing.”

“No, it wasn’t you. You’re actually pretty easy to talk to,” Kenma murmurs. “It’s just that I….”

He trails off again, just as he did the last time he almost brought up his disorder.

“It’s alright, Kenma,” Kuroo says. “We all have our demons. It’s not your fault.”

He watches Kenma’s eyes widen a little before he ducks his head, his dyed blond hair falling to obscure his face from view. Before either of them can continue the conversation or start off on a new topic, two small heads appear from around the corner of the trash collection. Kenma straightens and his whole body freezes, most likely to prevent any sudden movements that would scare the cats away. Kuroo shuts off the sound on the PSP and lowers it into his lap.

They watch the cats eat the tuna in silence, and it’s one of the most comfortable silences Kuroo’s ever experienced. Not once do his depressed thoughts try to steal the silence away, and he feels like he could sit out here with Kenma and these two scruffy cats for hours and hours. Just watching Kenma stare at the two cats with soft, adoring eyes, causes a lightness in his chest, a comforting warmth that he wishes would never leave.

Maybe Bokuto was right. Maybe Kuroo does like Kenma. But whether he does or doesn’t hardly matters to Kuroo right now. What he wants is to get to know his quiet neighbor. He wants to learn everything he can about him. He wants to know what he enjoys, aside from video games and cats. He wants to know what he dislikes. What’s his favorite food? What does he do when he’s not working on a game? Does he drink coffee or does he prefer tea? What type of music does he enjoy listening to? What are his little habits and quirks that he does when he forgets he’s not alone? What are his comforts when he’s feeling down? Or maybe in his case, anxious? Kuroo wants to know it all. He wants Kenma to warm up to him. And maybe Kuroo’s little crush will develop into something more, or maybe it won’t. Either way, there’s just something about Kenma that relaxes him, that calms him, just like with Bokuto, and he wants to hold on to that. He wants to nourish it into something greater.

But of course, only if that’s what Kenma wants too. If he were to turn to Kuroo right now and tell him to never talk to him ever again, then Kuroo would respect his wishes. But it doesn’t seem like that’s what Kenma wants, at least not at the moment, so Kuroo allows himself to hope that maybe they can become friends eventually. Even if they never get as close as Kenma is with Akaashi, Kuroo thinks he could be okay with that.

And for once, when his obtrusive thoughts start to butt in, start to point out that Kuroo can’t have friends, that he doesn’t deserve friends, especially not someone that could be good for him like Kenma, he manages to force those thoughts down. He manages not to dwell on them and let them consume him. He considers it a great feat considering the hole he literally just pulled himself out of.

When the cats finish eating, Kenma reaches out towards one, just as he did the other night. And just like the other night, both cats bolt before he gets the chance.

“They used to not even come out at all if I was here,” Kenma tells Kuroo as he picks up the dish and stands.

Kuroo smiles. “They’ve come a long way then.”

He holds the back door open to Kenma and follows him inside. He makes sure to keep his distance again, not wanting to make Kenma uncomfortable. When they reach their floor, Kenma hesitates when Kuroo stops at his door. His eyes flick down to Kuroo’s hand, and Kuroo suddenly remembers he still has Kenma’s PSP.

“Oh, sh- sorry, here,” he says, holding it out to Kenma. “It’s really good. I mean, I’m only halfway through the first level, but I like it so far.”

“Are you interested in finishing it?” Kenma asks.

“Uh, yeah, I’m definitely hooked,” Kuroo answers honestly. “But I don’t have a PSP.”

Kenma nods, seeming pleased. “Do you have a PS4? It’s originally designed for the PS4 anyway, I just formatted a copy onto a PSP cartridge for personal use.”

Kuroo nods. He almost sold his PS4 when he moved, but now he’s thanking his lucky stars he decided to hold onto it.

“I’ll make you a disc,” Kenma says. “Should only take me a day.”

“Oh, no rush. I really appreciate it though, letting me play your game,” Kuroo tells him sincerely.

Kenma shrugs. “We need people to test run it anyway. Just don’t forget about the homework.”

Kuroo laughs. “I won’t, I promise.”

Kenma nods and starts to back towards his apartment. “Goodnight Kuroo.”

Kuroo can’t stop his smile. He can’t help but watch the way the PSP starts to disappear up his overly large sleeve, or the way he flicks his head a little to try and clear his hair from in front of his eyes, or the way his eyes flick up to Kuroo’s chest before quickly lowering again. Okay, yes, Bokuto was right. Kuroo definitely likes Kenma.

“Night, Kenma.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some actual conversation with Kenma!
> 
> Oh, and quick disclaimer: I know absolutely NOTHING about video game development. I barely know anything about video games period. So do not quote me on any of the video game development stuff I have in here. I am COMPLETELY making it up as I go along. I’ll also say the same for Kuroo when his art starts going to galleries and stuff. I have absolutely no idea how that works either, so please forgive any inaccuracies.


	7. Someone Has Been Asking About You

The unexpectedly long conversation with Kenma did a lot to pull Kuroo the rest of the way out of his slump, and by four the following day, he was back to his somewhat-stable mental state and ready to handle his second shift at the bar. And over the next three weeks, he manages to learn all of the drinks, including Shirofuku’s friends’ usual orders. After only three weeks, Shirofuku officially announces the end of Kuroo’s training and assigns him his first few shifts that don’t coincide with Yaku’s. It’s a huge step and Kuroo can’t help but feel a little good about himself, despite having received the final refusal of his other job applications only the day prior. With thirteen applications and thirteen refusals, Kuroo is of course upset, but at this point he’s also much more confident that he won’t be fired from the bar. So although it’s not what he originally wanted as far as a part-time job, at least he has one.

Over the course of those three weeks, he’s also produced a couple of pieces he’s rather proud of. The piece of Kenma’s apartment, the one he had been ready to erase immediately after finishing the sketch, actually turned out really well, and is his new favorite piece. Of course, that could be for reasons other than the quality of the painting. But whatever his reason, he thinks it and the others are good enough to start approaching galleries and shows with a new portfolio, and has spent the last week or so doing some research into the nearby galleries. He’s ready to start paying a few visits. If only he wasn’t so nervous.

Over these three weeks, Kuroo has also made leaps and bounds in growing closer to Kenma. Kenma had given him the disc for his game the day after he had let Kuroo start it on his PSP, just as he promised, and Kuroo has spent all of his free time playing it. That is, when he’s not hanging out with the developer. Ninety percent of their conversations take place near the trash collection between the hours of two and four in the morning, the rest taking place in that small hallway when they happen to pass each other coming and going. But it’s more than good enough for Kuroo. Those middle of the night conversations behind the building are the highlights of his days. Even when going through a rough patch with his depression, he can usually drag himself out of bed to go sit with Kenma in the dark.

He learns a lot about Kenma during those late night conversations. Kenma reveals to him his problems with his social anxiety, explaining that while he and Akaashi had been holed up in his apartment working towards their deadline, he hadn’t been on his medication, and that’s why he was exceptionally jumpy the first couple of times he and Kuroo talked. He had started back on his medication as soon as they submitted the game, but he explains that it takes a few days to kick in to their full effect. That makes sense to Kuroo, considering Kenma had been much more relaxed that first night out feeding the cats, and every night since then. Kuroo had hoped that maybe it was because Kenma was warming up to him, but he also realizes that had been a lot to hope for, and not very realistic. Although, he hopes that now it may be more so the case that Kenma is more comfortable around him.

Kuroo almost feels like he should tell Kenma about his own demons since Kenma shared his, but he had bit his tongue on it. Kenma doesn’t want to know about his depression. It’s not important anyway. If he shared it with Kenma, he’d just sound like he’s whining about his feeling sad all the time, and who wants to listen to that? Besides, he’s sure Kenma already knows there’s something wrong with Kuroo. Kuroo had been way too understanding when Kenma explained his problems with his social anxiety and going off and on his medication. He’s sure Kenma must suspect something. And that’s all he really needs to know anyway, right? He just needs to know that Kuroo is messed up, he doesn’t need to know exactly _how_ messed up. Also, if Kenma were to ever find out what was wrong with Kuroo, surely he wouldn’t stick around. Who would? He’d run away and that’s not what Kuroo wants. That’s the exact opposite of what Kuroo wants.

So Kuroo keeps his demons buried deeply away, where Kenma will never discover them, and so far everything has been great. Kuroo is slowly learning all of those things he wanted to learn, and Kenma seems to be just as interested in learning about Kuroo. It surprises the both of them when they discover that they both played volleyball in high school, and one of their late night conversations ends up being solely about the sport. Kuroo finds out that, although Kenma somewhat enjoyed the sport itself, his social anxiety made it hard to work on a team like that, so he had quit after his second year in high school. When he asks Kuroo why he had quit, Kuroo only supplies him with a vague answer, telling him that he decided to focus on school instead. It’s not entirely false, he just decides not to mention he was coaxed into that decision. Kuroo had quickly steered the conversation away from him and onto Bokuto’s volleyball match he had gone to with Akaashi the weekend prior. Kenma had remembered that Akaashi went to the match, but he had been too nervous to go. So Kuroo tells him all about it. Bokuto’s team had played Oikawa’s previous Kyoto team and had crushed them. Kuroo had thoroughly enjoyed watching that match, it reminding him how much he used to love playing.

Kuroo is on his way to the bar, walking down the streets that will soon become even busier with the end of the workday, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he sees that it’s Akaashi calling him. He wonders at why Akaashi would be calling him for a moment before answering.

“What’s up?” he answers.

_“Someone has been asking about you,”_ Akaashi says in lieu of a greeting. There’s a hint of a tease in his tone and it only compounds Kuroo’s confusion.

“What? Who? And why?” Kuroo questions, his confusion taking hold of his tongue. For a moment, his chest seizes when he thinks that maybe Daishou is trying to get to Kuroo through Akaashi. But he quickly dismisses that thought. Daishou doesn’t know Akaashi at all past being Bokuto’s boyfriend. And also, Akaashi knows the situation between Kuroo and Daishou. He wouldn’t be teasing about it if it truly was Daishou.

_“Kenma hasn’t said a word to me about you since explaining why he was talking to you through the wall a few weeks ago, but earlier, out of the blue, I received a text from him asking if I had your phone number.”_

Kuroo chest is seizing again, but this time for a whole different reason. Kenma wants his phone number? Does that mean that they’ve been growing closer than Kuroo thought they had, that Kenma would want to talk to him outside of their middle of the night meet ups? Just the thought excites Kuroo.

_“I’m calling because, first of all, I’m nosy and I want to know if there’s anything going on between you two, but I also wanted to make sure it was okay with you before I gave him your number,”_ Akaashi continues.

“Oh, yeah, you can give it to him,” Kuroo quickly says, trying not to reveal how excited he is about something so simple. “And nothing is going on between us. We’ve just talked a few times, when he goes out to feed those cats.” It’s certainly been more than a few times, but Kuroo doesn’t need to specify exactly how often.

Akaashi is silent for a long moment. Kuroo even pulls his phone away from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. But then Akaashi finally says, _“You do realize that I live with Bokuto, and that Bokuto can’t keep a secret to save his life, right?”_

Kuroo sighs, dry washing his face. “He told you about his theory didn’t he.” It’s not a question. Of course he did.

_“He told me that you told him you really like Kenma.”_

“Oh my god I did _not_ say that. _He_ said that and wouldn’t listen when I told him it wasn’t true.”

_“So you don’t like him then?”_

Now it’s Kuroo’s turn to hesitate. How does he answer that question? With the truth? Or does he try to deny it like he did with Bokuto? But when he was talking to Bokuto, he hadn’t really realized how he felt about Kenma. Now, things are very different.

“When I told Bokuto I didn’t, it was sort of true,” Kuroo says slowly, deciding that he should just tell Akaashi. He’ll find out the truth eventually. He has an uncanny way of knowing these kinds of things. “But now….”

_“But now it’s not as true?”_ Akaashi finishes for him, and Kuroo can hear a hint of a smile in his voice. Kuroo can feel his cheeks starting to color, but before he can brush off the accusation with a joke or retort, Akaashi continues. _“I noticed that Kenma has been acting a little different lately. He hasn’t been so kept to himself. He’s been more… I don’t know, verbal? I guess. He seems a little happier and dare I say excited. So, I guess I have you to thank for that.”_

“I didn’t do anything though,” Kuroo murmurs. “I just talked to him.”

_“That’s the thing though, you_ talked _to him. And he talked back. Most people avoid him, they think he’s crazy, or self-absorbed. They don’t give him a chance. But you did. And I think he actually, for once, enjoys having someone to talk to other than me. So thank you, Kuroo. This is really good for him, to have a friend.”_

Kuroo doesn’t know what to say. To hear that Akaashi thinks Kuroo’s presence is making Kenma happier, that Kenma is actually enjoying their little conversations, it makes his heart race. His whole chest feels light and fuzzy, and it’s such a strange feeling. He hasn’t felt this way in so many years, not since his life took a nose dive after getting together with Daishou. He forgot what it felt like to be warmed like this, to be affected so positively by another person.

_“Sorry, Kuroo, I have to go now. I’ve been at the office all day in meetings with our bosses about the game. We finally got the go-ahead this morning to proceed with the next step. But I’ll give Kenma your number if you’re okay with that.”_

“Uh, yeah, definitely okay with that.”

_“Good. But I need to make something very clear before you two start messaging each other: do_ not _call him. Ever, under any circumstances. It doesn’t matter how comfortable he gets with you. Just his ring tone alone is enough to send him into a panic attack.”_

“Oh, yeah of course,” Kuroo quickly agrees. He hadn’t thought about that, but he supposes that’s a common fear in people with only mild cases of social anxiety. It would make sense that it could trigger a panic attack in someone with severe anxiety like Kenma.

_“Okay, thank you for understanding. Have a nice night, Kuroo.”_

“You too, Akaashi, and good luck in your meeting.”

They hang up and Kuroo can’t help the smile that starts to spread across his face. He hadn’t once considered offering his phone number to Kenma. The idea hadn’t even entered his mind. So to find out that Kenma had obviously wanted it enough to involve a third party sends butterflies through his stomach. Maybe their little talks are no longer enough for Kenma. They weren’t enough for Kuroo either, and he’s excited at the prospect of talking to him much more often.

The stupid smile is still on his face as he pushes through the front doors of the bar. Yaku is behind the counter, checking the supplies in preparation to open. He does a double take when Kuroo enters, and a smile of his own starts to pull at the corner of his lips.

“Someone is unusually upbeat this afternoon,” he chirps.

Kuroo shrugs as he continues towards the back room. “I just got a really nice call, that’s all.”

“Looks like more than that to me,” Yaku hums. “Keep that smile on your face and I guarantee you’ll see an increase in your tips tonight.”

…

Yaku was right. Kuroo’s tips tonight are nearly double what he went home with last night, and he knows it’s not just because it’s Friday. This is a lot more than he got last Friday. Kuroo counts the cash as he pushes into the locker room at the end of his shift. Quite satisfied with the amount, he shoves it into his pocket and pops open his locker so he can shed out of his vest, pick up his things, and hurry home. It’s later than usual, nearly four in the morning, but he hopes he’ll still manage to catch Kenma out with the cats.

When he pulls his phone out of the locker, he just catches a flash of light before he can shove it into his pocket. Out of curiosity, he unlocks the screen to see that he has a message from an unknown number. His breath catches, knowing that it must be from Kenma. He doesn’t have Daishou’s number saved in his phone anymore, but he practically has it memorized anyway. And this is not his number.

Kuroo drops the phone into his pocket as he pulls on his zip up. He’ll check it once he leaves, when there are no prying eyes around. Picking up his paycheck from Shirofuku on his way out of the staff room and bidding everyone a good night, Kuroo hurries from the building and out into the chilly night air.

He doesn’t even make it half way down the block before he’s pulling out his phone and eagerly opening the message.

**_[17:32] Unknown:_ ** _This is Kenma. I got your number from Akaashi. Sorry if that’s weird. I was too nervous to ask you._

Kuroo smiles as he reads over the message again. He debates whether he should tell Kenma that Akaashi asked his permission first. Would it make him feel better or would he get upset with Akaashi? But he wouldn’t get mad at Akaashi for asking permission to give out Kuroo’s number, right? He saves the number under a new contact, then types out a response.

**_[03:49] Kuroo:_ ** _no prob. akaashi asked me first before giving it to you. and for future ref you can ask me anything you want_

After sending the message, he pockets the phone, not expecting an answer right away. The time stamp said Kenma sent that message not long after Kuroo started his shift, about ten hours ago. But it’s only a moment later that his phone vibrates with a response. Kuroo quickly pulls it out. Perhaps Kenma always keeps his phone on him.

**_[3:51] Kenma:_ ** _Oh. I probably should’ve figured he’d do that.  
**[3:51] Kenma:** Are on your way back from work yet?_

**_[3:51] Kuroo:_ ** _yup! long shift tonight. fridays are always so busy_

**_[3:52] Kenma:_ ** _I haven’t fed the cats yet._

**_[3:52] Kuroo:_ ** _i’ll be there in 15!_

Kuroo pockets his phone when there’s no response, and quickens his steps, wondering if Kenma was waiting to feed the cats until Kuroo got back, or if he just hadn’t gotten around to doing it yet. Of course it must be the latter, though, Kuroo knows that. Why would Kenma wait around for him?

…

“Have you talked to Akaashi since he finished those meetings?” Kuroo questions, sitting beside Kenma as they watch the two cats eagerly devour the food put out for them.

Kenma nods. “He’s been keeping me updated throughout the day.”

“Well, congrats on getting approval,” Kuroo says, picking at the nail polish on his thumb. Shirofuku told him that it’s okay for him to keep the polish on at work, but that it needs to be maintained, which means Kuroo is constantly having to fix it due to his nervous habit. “What’s the next step then?”

“Trial runs. Our company will have people play the game a few times through, just like you and Bokuto-san are. They’ll send me and Keiji their results and we’ll fix any problems. We repeat that process a couple of times before it’ll be approved for release.”

“So you still have a lot of work to do then before release, huh?”

Kenma nods. After a moment of silence, he asks, “Have you contacted any galleries?”

Kuroo sighs, running a hand through his mess of hair. “No. I’ve found the ones that are most likely to accept my art, but… I’m afraid to contact them. I guess I haven’t quite prepared myself for their rejections yet,” he says, attempting to laugh off his fear with a bad joke.

“You can’t know that they’re going to reject them. They could like them a lot. I’m sure they’re great,” Kenma says, not looking up from the cats. “I don’t know anything about painting or selling art, but I do know what it’s like to be a creator and trying to sell your creations. You need to have confidence in your work, or you’ll never succeed.”

Kuroo turns wide eyes onto Kenma. The lower half of his face is pressed into his knees, the top half obscured by his hair, but Kuroo stares anyway.

“That was pretty deep,” Kuroo murmurs, lowering his own chin onto his knees.

“You’re speaking to someone who was very unconfident in their work when they first started. My first four game ideas got refused. And that was just the plans for them. It wasn’t until I drew up plans for a game that I was really proud of, one I was sure that my bosses would like, one I actually had confidence in, that I got accepted. Not only did I get past the pilot step, but I made it all the way to a public release. You just have to be confident. I’ve never seen one of your paintings, but I can tell how passionate you are about your work. If you show the gallery owners that same passion, and show them how confident you are, it’ll help more than you know.”

Kuroo smiles into his knees, shooting a glance at Kenma. “Thanks Kenma. Sometimes you say things like that and make me realize how much I don’t deserve a friend like you.”

Kenma looks up at Kuroo then, and Kuroo tenses. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It’s just a reoccurring thought that is always running through his head. He meant to keep it to himself. Kenma didn’t need to hear that. Kuroo probably just put him in a really awkward position, trying to decide if he should not say anything and let the thought hang between them, or try to deny it and try to comfort Kuroo. Kuroo is such an idiot.

But Kenma surprises Kuroo when he chooses neither option. “Well, you do have me, and with me comes advice based on limited and skewed life experiences. So do with it what you will.”

He could’ve easily had said nothing and let the comment pass. Or he could do what Bokuto and Akaashi always try to do and assure Kuroo that he deserves more than he thinks he does, that he’s worth it. Both would’ve made things more awkward. But Kenma found a third option, turning the comment around without dismissing it or letting it hang heavy between them. Kuroo almost messed everything up, but Kenma was able to salvage the situation so effortlessly.

Even through the haze of emptiness starting to creep in on him, Kuroo starts to feel that oh so familiar tingling in his chest every time he realizes how he feels about the small blond that lives next door to him, that sits out in the middle of the night next to piles of trash with him, that comforts him in ways he can’t even begin to comprehend.


	8. I'll Always Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol guess who forgot that I was supposed to upload a chapter this weekend. Well, it's still Sunday somewhere, so technically I'm not late :)

_“Kuroo, dear, please give me a call. You’ve been in the city for weeks and I’m worried about you. Don’t make me bug Bokuto-san for your address! We don’t want to cause him unnecessary trouble, do we? Please call me back. I’ll always love you, Tetsurou.”_

Shaking hands hang up the call and toss the phone away where it clatters to the floor. How can his hands been shaking so hard when the rest of his body feels so numb? He fists them in the sheets to get them to stop. Why won’t they stop?

_I’ll always love you, Tetsurou. I’ll always love you. …always love you…._

Kuroo pulls the pillows over his head, pressing them into his ears. He begs, he pleads for the voice to stop echoing.

_I’ll always love you._

Shut up! The voice won’t shut up. It won’t stop ringing through his head. He can hear that voice saying it over and over again. He sees that face, those lips moving around the words, the corners drawn up into that sickly sweet smile. It’s a lie. He doesn’t love Kuroo. He never did. Kuroo _knows_ that. So why won’t the voice leave him alone? Just please go away….

His throat hurts. It’s raw. How long has he been screaming into his pillow? And when did he start crying? His cheeks are wet, the fabric of his pillow case cold where it presses into his face. Why can’t he take a deep breath? His chest hurts. Everything hurts. When will it all just stop? When will that voice leave him alone?

_I’ll always love you._

_I’m the only one who will ever love you._

_You need me, no one else will take care of you._

_You are worthless to all of them. Useless. They will leave you._

_I’ll always love you._

…

His tips are low today. He double checks the amount, counting it a second and a third time. He didn’t miss count. He shoves the cash in his pocket. Honestly he got more than he deserved. Who would tip a bartender that feels, and probably looks, dead and empty?

He hears a few voices call to him as he leaves, bidding him a goodnight. He murmurs a response. He’s thankful Bokuto isn’t working tonight. Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t force up his cheerful mask. While the rest of his coworkers probably didn’t notice that anything was off, he knew Bokuto would have. And he can’t deal with Bokuto right now. He can’t deal with that much upbeat energy, that much happiness.

He takes the long way home tonight, winding through all the empty streets. He needs to waste some time, make sure that Kenma has finished feeding the cats for tonight. He can’t face Kenma like this. Kenma deserves more than his hollow, half-assed responses and dead eyes. He deserves more than a shell of a man drowning in his own pathetic baggage.

Despite his desire not to run into Kenma tonight, he finds his feet leading him down the street that will take him straight to the back door of the building. And when he rounds the corner, he sees him. Hunched over a bowl of tuna with his hood pulled up over his head, his fingers move across the buttons of his PSP, hands almost fully engulfed by his sleeves.

Kuroo knows he’s supposed to feel something at the sight. Seeing Kenma always makes his heart flutter and his chest fuzzy. Perhaps he’s just too dead inside. He’s too empty. He doesn’t have the ability to feel anything right now. Just that realization drags him so much lower. His whole body feels so heavy. It’s like a weight has been dropped on his back, forcing him onto the ground. Lower. He’s drowning, and he can’t even see the light of the sun through the water anymore. It’s just a dark… nothingness.

Kenma looks up at Kuroo, then back down at his game. Kuroo has to say something. Anything. He can’t stay here with Kenma tonight. He’s so close to breaking and Kenma can’t witness that. He needs to say something, give him a quick excuse. Where is his voice? Why can’t he find it?

Kenma doesn’t look up from his game, not until Kuroo has already walked past him, towards the back door to the building. Kuroo can feel eyes on his back, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t say a word.

He’s halfway up to his floor when he manages to pull his phone from his pocket. He has a bunch of missed texts, mostly from Bokuto, but one is from Kenma. He doesn’t read any of them as he types out a quick message to Kenma before shoving the phone back into his pocket. He needs to say something after all, even if he couldn’t find his voice.

 **_[03:26] Kuroo:_ ** _Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow._

…

Sunlight streaming through his window wakes Kuroo. The first thing he does is reach out for the bottle of antidepressants on his dresser and pops one into his mouth. He gropes around for the half full cup of water, nearly knocking it off the dresser in the process, and takes a long swig to swallow down the pill. When he finishes, he places the empty cup back on the dresser and tosses the pill bottle next to it, where it’s been for the last few days as a reminder to not forget to take his meds.

This morning he feels a little better than he did for the last couple of days. He still feels like shit, but he’s able to actually drag himself out of a bed he hasn’t left in over two days. It was three nights ago that Kuroo blew Kenma off on his way home from work. He promised he’d see him the next day, but he didn’t. That alone makes him feel like a huge piece of shit. So he reaches for his phone next to the pill bottle so he can send him a text to apologize.

Kuroo isn’t surprised at the number of missed texts he has. He heard his phone buzzing regularly for the last couple days. He just hadn’t bothered to check it. He opens them as he heads into the kitchen to boil water for tea. Most are from Bokuto, some of the ones from earlier this morning threatening to come over if Kuroo doesn’t start answering his phone. He shoots off a quick text to him to assure him he’s still alive before reading the others. There are two from Kenma and four from Akaashi. He opens the ones from Akaashi first.

 **_Wednesday  
[17:42] Akaashi: _ ** _Bokuto wants me to tell you to answer your phone. As if there’s anything I can do that he can’t._

 ** _Thursday  
[12:09] Akaashi: _**_He’s not the only one worried anymore. I have to stop by Kenma’s place in an hour. I’m going to check in on you after._  
_**[14:33] Akaashi:** Please answer the door._  
 _**[14:46] Akaashi:** I’ll be back tomorrow. If you don’t answer your door then, I’m having Bokuto kick it in. This is your warning._

Kuroo stares at the messages for a long minute. With how vocal and animated Bokuto is, sometimes Kuroo forgets that he’s not the only one that cares for him. Akaashi has been with him through everything, just like Bokuto has been. He was even the one to discover Kuroo after his last suicide attempt and managed to save him. He knows how serious Kuroo’s depression is, and just like Bokuto, he stuck around and has not been shy about expressing how much he cares for Kuroo’s wellbeing. It just tends to get lost behind Bokuto’s exaggerated methods of caring.

Kuroo knows he doesn’t have to reply to Akaashi’s texts. He sent Bokuto a message, and there’s no way Bokuto won’t tell Akaashi that he replied. But he types one out anyway.

 **_[11:55] Kuroo:_ ** _Thank you. I’m sorry I made you worry._

Taking a deep breath, he opens the messages from Kenma next.

 **_Thursday  
[02:45] Kenma:_ ** _I’m going out to feed the cats._

 **_Friday  
[00:56] Kenma:_ ** _Are you okay?_

Kuroo cringes. Even Kenma managed to pick up that something was wrong. But of course he did. Kuroo literally blew him off a few nights ago, walked right past him without a word, and then broke his promise to meet up with him the following night. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that something was going on. Kuroo exhales sharply as he tries to figure out how to reply. He’s such an idiot.

 **_[12:01] Kuroo:_ ** _sorry I missed your messages. will you be out tonight?_

The response is almost instantaneous.

 **_[12:02] Kenma:_ ** _Glad you’re okay.  
**[12:02] Kenma:** I’ll go out at 3 if you want to join me._

 **_[12:03] Kuroo:_ ** _great! i’ll def be out this time_

Kuroo doesn’t get a reply, and he doesn’t expect one. He quickly makes himself something to eat- it’s the first time he’s actually had an appetite in days and he’s _starving_ \- before sitting down at his new canvas. It’s still in the rough sketch phase, and it takes Kuroo a moment to get back into the feel of the piece after the unintentional three day break he took from it.

He spends all day at that canvas, finishing the sketch, applying base colors, and then starting to add some depth. At a little after three, Bokuto shows up with Akaashi to check in on him. They bring with them take out, and Kuroo graciously accepts as they sit down to eat together. Bokuto’s banter fills the small apartment and does a lot to comfort Kuroo, just as it always does. He doesn’t miss Akaashi’s glances, observing Kuroo and looking for any signs that something might be off. No words are directly spoken to their concern, but it’s clear they know what had happened to Kuroo over the last few days. They know he had an episode, but they can see that Kuroo is on the upswing now, and they don’t say anything. Kuroo is grateful.

When they finish eating, Kuroo gets dressed, and he and Bokuto leave for work. Akaashi heads to Kenma’s apartment as they head for the stairwell, and Kuroo finds that he sorely wishes he could join Akaashi. He really wants to see Kenma. It’s only been a few days, but now that the numbness has faded a little, he finds that he really misses his presence. It’s such a small, quiet presence, but it has such a huge affect on Kuroo.

But Kuroo follows Bokuto into the stairwell and out of the building. Bokuto talks the entire way to the bar, meaning that Kuroo doesn’t have to. All he has to do is listen to the animated volleyball player talk about everything that happened in practice that morning. It’s a perfect distraction from the events of the last few days, and also from wishing his shift would go by quickly so he can meet Kenma. Even when they start their shifts, it’s a Friday, which means that the place is packed. It’s another perfect distraction. He’s on his toes all night, and tonight his smile isn’t entirely forced. It’s not a hollow, fake thing that scares away his customers and his tips. He doesn’t wish that he could down half the alcohol in the bar without getting fired.

With a much larger wad of cash in his pocket than after his last shift Tuesday night, Kuroo hurries down the sidewalk through the brisk night. His footsteps carry him at a jog through the city that never quite falls quiet. It’s well past three, nearly four in the morning. He sent a text to Kenma the second he left the bar, but he hasn’t gotten a response. Did Kenma already finish feeding the cats? Is he already back up in his apartment, possibly even asleep? Did Kuroo unintentionally blow Kenma off for the second time in a row?

When he rounds the corner, coming up behind his apartment building, his steps falter when he sees Kenma standing from his crouch, the empty tuna plate in his hand. It looks like he missed feeding the cats, but at least he didn’t miss Kenma. The blond is right there, right in front of him, for the first time in three days.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo blurts. “For being late.” For everything. For being a piece of shit. “Tonight was a long night.”

Kenma just nods. He doesn’t seem upset, but sometimes it’s hard to tell with him when he doesn’t say anything. “Do you want some tea?”

“Do I… what?” Kuroo stumbles over his words. That hadn’t been what he had expected Kenma to say.

“Tea? I’m going to make some,” Kenma says as he starts to head towards the back door.

“You mean… in your apartment?”

Kenma looks back at him with one hand grasping the door handle, an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Yes, in my apartment. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Kuroo blurts. Is he really being invited into Kenma’s apartment? That is the exact _opposite_ of a problem. “No, that sounds great.”

Kuroo follows Kenma up the staircase, like he’s done so many times. His eyes trace the folds in his overly large sweater across his back, the tips of his fingers peeking out from the sleeves, the dish grasped in one hand and his PSP in the other. The handheld is on, showing a pause menu, and Kuroo thinks back to something Bokuto said, realizing the startling truth to it. He’s never seen the device off.

When they reach their floor, for once Kuroo doesn’t stop at his own door, instead following Kenma across the short hall to his door. Kuroo can’t help but feel a little excited, and strangely honored that Kenma trusts him enough to let him into such a safe place for him.

The door opens and the light flicks on and Kuroo, at first, is overwhelmed. Yes, he painted this very room, and Akaashi was right in saying that his depiction was quite accurate, but it’s another thing to see it in person. Computer monitors are everywhere, computer equipment spaced in between, along with so many other devices Kuroo can’t even begin to name. The desks line the walls of the small living space, even shoved in front of the sliding door out to the balcony that has a thick blackout curtain in front of it. Kuroo supposes that Kenma must never use his balcony. The computers are all on, unlike in his painting. Kuroo wonders if they, like the PSP, never turn off. A few are displaying a screen saver, while others run programs and other things Kuroo couldn’t even begin to recognize. The desks and the space around them are clustered, but not necessarily messy. It all looks to be in a certain order, meticulously placed.

“Sorry for the mess,” Kenma says as he toes off his shoes.

“I’ve converted a large section of my apartment into a makeshift art studio, so I get it,” Kuroo chuckles. “This isn’t even messy.”

Kuroo removes his shoes as Kenma pads barefoot over to the sink to fill a teapot. As he fills the pot, Kuroo moves further into the apartment, into the circle of desks and computer screens and technology. He makes sure to keep his distance, not wanting to touch and possibly break something. Or screw up whatever it is the computers are working on.

Once the pot is full and on the hotplate, Kenma joins Kuroo, plopping down into a worn black- not red- desk chair and gestures for Kuroo to take the other chair, also black. Kenma brings his knees up to his chest and grabs at the edge of the desk, using it as leverage to rotate his chair to face the laptop perched on the desk. He wakes it up, clicks on a few things and reads over something Kuroo can’t even begin to comprehend, before turning his chair back in Kuroo’s direction. Kuroo just watches him in awed- and perhaps a little bit adoring- fascination. Kenma fidgets with his sleeves.

“So this is what it takes to make a video game.”

“For the most part,” Kenma answers, glancing at the monitors surrounding him. He starts to explain how the kind of games they make, the higher quality games sponsored by big gaming names need a little more than this, which Akaashi takes care of with the top of the line equipment owned by the company that sponsors them. He explains it all in tech talk, most of which flies completely over Kuroo’s head, but he listens in rapt attention anyway. He’s never heard Kenma talk this long and this in depth about anything. He could be talking this excitedly about a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe and it wouldn’t make any difference. Kuroo would still be mesmerized.

Kenma cuts himself off when the teapot whistles. He unfolds himself from his desk chair that practically swallows his small frame and crosses to the kitchen. As he prepares the tea, Kuroo eyes the rest of the room, extremely determined _not_ to look back over his shoulder at Kenma’s bedroom. That’s something very personal that Kuroo isn’t sure he should be looking at. So Kuroo determinedly watches him pour two cups, one a short and wide green teacup and the other a taller white coffee cup. He hands Kuroo the coffee cup.

“So where does Akaashi sleep when he stays here?” Kuroo asks as he sips at his tea. The room is completely filled with Kenma’s game developing equipment. Both the couch and the low table have been removed even. There isn’t much floor space for a futon.

“With me.”

Kuroo spits out his tea. All over the desk covered in what has to be millions of yen in equipment.

“Fuck! Shit- I’m so sorry,” Kuroo splutters, jumping to his feet to quickly wipe the desk and computer screens down with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Fuck I’m sorry, I just… you’re both such… private people. I wasn’t really… expecting….”

“It’s okay. A little tea won’t hurt anything,” Kenma responds, helping Kuroo mop up the mess. “Keiji used to sleep on the floor, but I felt bad about it. And he was very insistent on not kicking me out of my bed. So when I was comfortable enough around him, I let him sleep on the bed with me.” He suddenly shoots Kuroo a worried look. “Bokuto-san knows about it and is okay with it, by the way.”

Kuroo snorts, but it’s a little forced. He’s still recovering from his shock. “Yeah, I wasn’t concerned about Bokuto. I share a bed with Bokuto all the time. Like the night that Akaashi came to stay over here when they both got too drunk to go home, just after your deadline.”

Kenma nods, remembering. “You and Bokuto-san are close? And Keiji too?”

Kuroo nods. “I’ve known both of them for a very long time, since we all started high school. Bokuto’s my closest friend.”

They’re both silent for a long time. Kenma sips at his tea, but Kuroo is a little afraid to pick his up again lest Kenma say something else that surprises him. Instead, he looks over the equipment on the desk, making sure he cleaned everything up from his last incident.

“I heard Keiji knocking on your door yesterday after he left here,” Kenma says, breaking the long silence that had stretched out between them. He doesn’t look at Kuroo, rather at a spot on the desk near Kuroo’s elbow. “He waited a long time for you to answer.”

“Oh, well…” Kuroo murmurs, trying to figure out how to brush this off. “I was… I just… I had things to deal with.”

It’s not a lie, and they’re both silent again for a long moment. But again, Kenma is the one to break it. And Kuroo finds he’s very glad his tea is sitting safely on the desk, because he’s sure he would’ve dropped it at Kenma’s murmured, startlingly familiar words.

“We all have our demons. It’s not your fault.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed me! I'm not too ashamed to beg.


	9. Even Stronger Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the added tags. Kenma has a panic attack in this chapter, so proceed with caution.

That night isn’t the last time Kuroo is invited over to Kenma’s apartment. It becomes a regular thing, to have tea together after feeding the cats. Kuroo tries to invite Kenma to his place, but Kenma quickly declines, stating that he prefers his own familiar apartment. Kuroo doesn’t complain. They sit together late into the night, or rather early into the morning, drinking tea and talking about nothing and everything. Many nights, Kenma has work to complete while they talk, so Kuroo watches in awe as he tweaks and adjusts and codes across multiple screens. When this happens, Kenma’s end of the conversation will fade and fade until he falls completely silent, the computers consuming all of his attention. But Kuroo doesn’t mind. He’s comfortable just sitting with the blond and watching him work.

It’s not long after these meetings in Kenma’s apartment begin that Kuroo starts to realize his affections for his neighbor have grown so far greater than that of a simple crush. Kenma starts to consume all his thoughts, and not only the good ones. He gets himself worked up thinking about the sound of his voice and the soft kindness of his eyes, all the while fearing that one day Kenma will realize how much Kuroo isn’t worth his effort and pull away. He tries not to dwell on thoughts like those, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. But those are thoughts that don’t dare to enter his mind while he’s with Kenma. It’s as if his presence alone is enough to chase them away. Perhaps that’s one reason why being with Kenma is so addicting.

Every day Kuroo’s feelings for Kenma are growing, and they’re getting so hard for him to brush aside and ignore. He fears the day that he won’t be able to contain them anymore and Kenma will see how he really feels. Would he be disgusted? Would it scare him away? Will he feel betrayed to find out his friend wants to be more than friends? Or perhaps… would he return those feelings? Kuroo doesn’t dare to hope for an outcome like that. He knows that no one in their right mind would ever have feelings like these for Kuroo.

He’s pondering this one night on his way home from work. It had been a slow Tuesday, and Shirofuku has sent him home early. And one unforeseen benefit of being dismissed at the same time the kitchen is closing is that he was allowed to take home some of the leftover food. He absent-mindedly wonders if Kenma likes spicy karaage. But it’s not even midnight yet, so there’s no reason for him to hurry home. Kenma won’t go out to feed the cats for another couple of hours. He takes the back road anyway though, more out of habit than any other reason.

He pulls out his phone as he pushes through the back door, typing out a message to Kenma asking him if he’s eaten yet and if he wants any of this chicken. He ends up erasing and rewriting the message a few times as he climbs the stairs- something he’s doing more and more recently when messaging Kenma. But he never gets the chance to actually send it.

When he reaches the last flight of stairs up to their floor, Kuroo notices someone sitting in the corner just inside the door. Not someone. Kenma. His legs are drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. He has his PSP on and clutched tightly in his hands, but his eyes aren’t on the screen. They’re boring holes into his kneecaps, dazed and unseeing. He’s pulling in shuttering, gasping breaths, and his entire body is shaking like a leaf, so hard Kuroo is surprised his handheld hasn’t fallen to the floor.

He’s having a panic attack.

Kuroo’s heart is racing at this unexpected sight. What does he do? He has to do something. Kuroo’s first instinct is to rush forward, to wrap his arms around Kenma’s shaking shoulders and hold him, to assure him that everything will be okay. But he stops himself on the first step. That’s not the best way to handle this situation. So he starts by calling Kenma’s attention to himself to avoid further surprises.

“Kenma?” he murmurs, taking the next few steps hesitantly.

Kenma’s wide, panicked eyes snap up to Kuroo, and Kuroo is surprised when tears almost immediately start to bead at the corners of his eyes. They don’t spill over though, and Kenma quickly averts his eyes again. Kuroo closes the last bit of distance between them- cautiously and watching for any signs of discomfort or rejection- and squats down beside Kenma. He doesn’t really know how to help a person having a panic attack. He knows he can’t just tell Kenma to calm down, but that he needs to help him calm down somehow.

“Kenma, what do you need?” he tries asking. Maybe Kenma can tell him how to help.

Kenma doesn’t say a word, his wide eyes glued to his knees. He’s starting to rock a little now, and Kuroo wonders if maybe he should leave, if he’s only making it worse.

“Kenma, please, I want to help you. Tell me what I can do to help,” Kuroo murmurs, keeping his voice soft and hopefully comforting. “I’m here now, you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He doesn’t know if saying that will even help, if that’s even what Kenma wants to hear, but he has no idea what to say and he’s grasping at straws. He hasn’t felt this desperate in a long time.

“Too many… people…” Kenma finally mutters, nearly startling Kuroo.

“Too many people? Where? What happened?” Kuroo asks quickly, then mentally berates himself for bombarding Kenma with questions.

“My apartment…” he breathes. “It’s… all gone….”

Now Kuroo is even more confused. Too many people in Kenma’s apartment? Why would there be too many people in his apartment? And what does he mean by ‘it’s all gone’? Kuroo starts to stand, to open the door to their landing and see what’s wrong with Kenma’s apartment, but a hand suddenly shoots out and snags the sleeve of his jacket. Kuroo freezes.

“Please don’t… leave me alone,” he begs, his voice cracking around a sob he’s desperately trying to hold back. Kuroo’s heart shatters, a lump forming in his throat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “I promise. I just want to look.”

Kenma releases Kuroo’s sleeve after a moment and Kuroo stands. He takes the few steps that bring him to the door and pulls it open. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kuroo immediately knows what Kenma had been trying to tell him. It all suddenly makes sense to him now. Kenma’s apartment door is wide open, and Kuroo can see people moving around inside, all wearing crisp blue uniforms. They’re taking pictures and dusting the surface of the desk. And the desk is empty. From the little Kuroo can see at this distance through the open door, it really all appears to be gone. There should be monitors and equipment on that desk, and it’s all gone, only papers and notebooks left. Kenma was robbed.

Kuroo closes the door and moves back to Kenma’s side. He doesn’t know what to say to him. He wants to help him, but there’s nothing he can do about this situation. Not only did Kenma’s apartment get robbed and all his expensive equipment taken, but he then had to call the police, and then the officers came here. No doubt they bombarded him with questions, which he may or may not have been able to answer. His one safe place was torn apart and is now filled with however many strange men further tearing it apart. There’s absolutely nothing Kuroo can do to fix this mess. But he needs to do what he can to help Kenma here and now, and that starts with getting him out of the stairwell.

“You can’t stay here,” Kuroo tells him softly. “Would you like to go to my apartment? It may be unfamiliar, but it’s quiet, and probably a lot better than the stairwell.”

Kenma is nodding before Kuroo even finishes his hasty explanation. But he doesn’t move. He continues to sit wedged in the corner, and Kuroo realizes there may be a more serious problem than their location.

“Can you stand?” he questions hesitantly.

Kenma doesn’t answer for a long moment, but then slowly shakes his head. That really only leaves one other option, but Kuroo isn’t sure how okay with it Kenma will be, and he _really_ doesn’t want to make things worse for him.

“Can I…. Is it okay for me to pick you up?”

This time, Kenma nods, but Kuroo hesitates before moving closer. His heart is racing in his chest. He’s never touched Kenma before, not even the brush of fingertips when Kenma would hand him a teacup. Of course he’s thought about it, about what it would feel like to hold his hand, or to hug him, but this is not something he imagined ever doing. This is not what he imagined when he thought about what it would feel like to hold Kenma in his arms. He regrets the circumstances that are forcing contact now, that Kenma may only be allowing contact out of necessity, and not because he wants it or is even ready for it. So when he moves beside Kenma and hands him the bag of chicken from the bar, he mutters an apology before slipping an arm beneath his knees and the other around his back.

Kenma is a little lighter than Kuroo expected, and it’s not all that hard for him to lift the blond into his arms. Kenma’s whole body is still shaking rather violently, but he doesn’t seem too tense as he settles into Kuroo’s chest. When Kuroo fumbles with the doorknob and manages to pull the door open, Kenma turns his face into Kuroo’s shoulder, probably to avoid seeing the people moving around in his apartment.

Getting his keys out of his pocket and getting the door open is no easy feat, but somehow Kuroo manages and pushes his door open, carrying Kenma inside. He bumps the door closed and toes out of his shoes, Kenma also managing to kick out of his shoes, before Kuroo carries him to the couch. He carefully lowers Kenma onto the couch, and Kenma immediately curls in on himself. Kuroo takes the bag from him and heads to the kitchen to put on a pot of water to boil. Maybe some hot tea will help him calm down.

“Have you messaged Akaashi yet?” Kuroo asks from the kitchen, watching Kenma carefully but not approaching him. Akaashi may be able to answer the officers’ questions in regards to the equipment that was stolen. And he will also need to talk to their bosses and explain the situation. Their new project was on those computers, probably along with many other valuable things.

Kenma shakes his head and slowly moves a hand to his pocket.

“It’s alright, I’ll do it,” Kuroo tells him. “Is it okay for him to come over?”

Kenma nods, and Kuroo pulls out his phone. It’s late, but hopefully Akaashi picks up. Bokuto is still at the bar, so that should mean Akaashi is still awake. He tends to keep his sleep schedule in line with Bokuto’s. The phone rings and rings and rings and Kuroo is starting to worry that he won’t answer when the call goes through.

 _“Kuroo? Is everything alright?”_ Akaashi asks. His voice is a little rough. Perhaps he was asleep after all.

“No, but, uh… it’s not me. It’s Kenma,” Kuroo answers, turning off the burner when the pot starts to hiss.

 _“What happened?”_ he demands. He sounds much more awake now, and Kuroo can hear the rustling of clothes as he starts to get dressed.

“Kenma’s apartment was robbed. The police are here. He’s having a panic attack,” Kuroo explains quickly, and quietly so Kenma won’t overhear him. He doubts it’ll help, reminding him of what’s happening. “He’s at my place right now but he’s… I’m not sure how to help him.”

 _“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,”_ Akaashi tells him. His voice is serious, commanding as he continues. _“Listen, Kuroo. In his apartment, he’ll have some Valium. Try to get that for him. It’ll help him calm down. Also, please explain to the police that Kenma won’t be able to answer questions, but that I’ll be there soon and I will help them out as best I can, and that if they need to ask Kenma questions, they can do it through you or I.”_

“Understood. How much should I give him?” Kuroo questions.

 _“Just one pill should be fine. I’ll warn you though that it tends to make him really nauseous and sometimes knocks him out,”_ Akaashi tells him. _“Just… be prepared for that. I’ll be there soon to help. Thank you though, for looking out for him.”_

“Of course,” Kuroo murmurs. It doesn’t even need to be said. He’d walk to the moon and back if it meant helping Kenma.

Akaashi hangs up and Kuroo pours a cup of tea.

“Akaashi is on his way, so he’ll be here soon,” Kuroo tells Kenma as he hands him the cup. “I’m going to your apartment to get your Valium. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Kenma nods, holding the cup close so that the steam billows up over his face. He doesn’t take a sip though. Kuroo is a little worried about leaving him alone in this state, but he’ll be quick. At least, he’ll try to be. As he leaves his apartment, not bothering with his shoes, he notes the officer now standing in front of the doorway. He’s writing on a clipboard, but looks up as Kuroo approaches.

“Sorry, sir, this is a crime scene. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he says, looking back down at his clipboard.

“I’m Kenma’s neighbor, he’s actually at my place right now, but I-”

“Kozume-san is with you?” The officer looks up with a frown. “Could you ask him to return? We have a lot more questions to ask him. We also need him to list everything that’s been stolen.”

“I understand that you want to talk to him, but, uh…” Kuroo hesitates. How much should he tell the officer? It’s not Kuroo’s place to tell others about Kenma’s disorder, but at the same time, these officers are going to want to know why Kenma can’t answer all their questions. He sighs. “Look, Kenma has some… extenuating circumstances that won’t allow him to answer your questions. His work partner and close friend is on his way here right now, and he’ll be able to give you that list, seeing as he’s very familiar with all the equipment that was stolen. He’s ready to offer whatever assistance he can. And with any other questions you need answered, both he and I are happy to play middle man. But right now, Kenma is having a panic attack, and I need to get his medication.”

The officer is still frowning, but he seems to accept everything Kuroo tells him. “He did seem rather… jumpy when we tried to talk to him earlier,” he observes. “Very well, come with me. But don’t touch a thing.”

The officer leads Kuroo into the apartment. He looks around as they pass through the front door, and Kuroo is shocked at how… empty the room is. Every single piece of equipment is missing, wall mounts hanging empty and broken, one desk tipped over on its side, the few storage containers that had been under the desks open and emptied. Even Kenma’s little blue wireless mouse with Zelda stickers all over it is gone.

Kuroo receives a few looks from the other officers in the room, but they don’t say anything as he’s escorted to the bedroom and through to the bathroom.

“We’ll try to work with you and his work partner as much as we can, considering Kozume-san’s… circumstances, but there may be times when we’ll need to contact him directly. If we recover any of his stolen property, he’s the only one that will be allowed to pick it up,” the officer explains to him.

Kuroo nods as he looks through Kenma’s medicine cabinet for his Valium. He feels so invasive reading over all the labels of the various pill bottles, knowing that if anyone were to go through his own medicine cabinet, he’d kill them. But unfortunately it can’t be helped, and he tries to find the right bottle as quickly as possible. He eventually locates it and pulls it out.

The thought that Kenma won’t be able to come back here tonight, or even for the next couple days, and that he should grab some of the other bottles he may need to take daily, passes briefly through his mind, but decides against it for now. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Kenma might rather stay here in his trashed apartment than at Kuroo’s place. And if it turns out he does want to stay with Kuroo, then Kuroo can always come back to get him anything he needs.

Kuroo closes the cabinet and turns to the officer. “Thank you for understanding. I promise you we’ll do everything we can to assist. Kenma’s partner, Akaashi Keiji, will be here in about fifteen minutes, and he’ll help you with that list.”

The officer escorts Kuroo out of the apartment and Kuroo hurries back to his own apartment. When he opens the door, Kenma startles, jumping up into a sitting position from where he had been laying on the couch. He’s still shaking so badly, and Kuroo’s heart aches. Hopefully the Valium will kick in quickly and he’ll be able to relax.

Kuroo kneels in front of Kenma on the couch and opens the pill bottle, tipping one of the heart-shaped pills into Kenma’s hand. He hands him the teacup he had placed on the table, and Kenma quickly takes the pill, swallowing it down with a sip of tea.

“Anything else you need? Please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything,” Kuroo tells him. “Are you hungry? I brought home some food from the bar. It’s really good….”

Kenma shakes his head, keeping his eyes on his PSP in his lap, the pause screen of his new game staring back at him.

“Okay, well I have plenty, so if you change your mind, just let me know.”

Kenma nods and Kuroo stands, knowing that it would be best to give him some space. When he turns his back, he hears the game play music start to echo from Kenma’s PSP. Kuroo grabs a pair of chopsticks before sitting down at his low table, facing Kenma, and opening the bag to remove a box of karaage and a box of gyoza.

Kuroo isn’t eating for very long before he hears the music from the PSP shut off. He looks up to make sure Kenma is okay, and sees him lowering the device, his nose wrinkling at the smell wafting through the apartment. Kuroo worries for a minute that Kenma is becoming nauseated, but then he slowly gets to his feet and makes his way over to the table. He sits down across from Kuroo, setting his PSP on the table and reaching across to grab a piece of gyoza from the box with his fingers. Kuroo smiles in relief when he starts to nibble at the end.

“Sorry,” he murmurs into the gyoza, and Kuroo nearly drops his chopsticks.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Kenma. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kuroo pronounces carefully, clearly.

“I’m a burden.”

“Don’t say that,” Kuroo snaps. Kenma startles, and Kuroo tries to force down his anger. He’s not angry at Kenma, and he didn’t mean to snap at him. “Please, don’t say that. You’re not a burden. Not to me. You never will be. We all have our demons, remember? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but…” he hesitates, taking another bite. “I guess I’m just embarrassed. You knew I was messed up, but I was hoping you’d never see… well, this.” He gestures to himself with a shaking hand. “I didn’t want you to know just how messed up I am. I guess I’m just surprised you didn’t turn and run the second you saw me cowering in that stairwell.”

“I don’t think I could ever run from you,” Kuroo murmurs. “It’s you I’m afraid will run. We all have our demons, right? But mine are… really ugly.”

Kuroo thinks he must be hallucinating when he sees the hint of a smile start to pull at Kenma’s lips. His hands are still shaking, but not nearly as bad as they were. His shoulders aren’t so tense, and he seems to be relaxing a little. The Valium must be kicking in.

“Mine aren’t exactly pretty,” he says. “But maybe that’s what makes us good for each other. We both know what it’s like to live with those demons. We’re strong in ways others will never understand. And together, maybe we can be even stronger.”

Kuroo stares at Kenma wide eyed for a long, speechless moment. Surely he didn’t hear what he thought he heard come from Kenma’s lips? He’s suddenly slammed with the desire to kiss him. Kuroo wants to kiss him so badly. Of course, he shoves that desire away, hiding it among all the other feelings he’s been burying for months. But the affection that drove the desire still burns in his chest in its wake.

He really doesn’t deserve someone as strong and amazing as Kenma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't responded to comments for the last like... three chapters, but I promise that I've read every single one of them (some more than once) and that I WILL respond to them soon. Thank you so much for commenting and please keep sending them in! They do so much to keep me writing.
> 
> Also, I finally got around to rewriting the summary! And I like it a little better, so go take a look if you wanna.


	10. I Don't Need Your Pity

After Kenma’s assertion, they fall into a comfortable silence. Kenma reaches across for another gyoza before Kuroo just pushes the box across to him. He takes the offered box with a muttered “Thanks”. Kuroo watches him as he picks at another piece of gyoza, noting how his hands slowly but surely stop shaking, and the tension completely leaves his shoulders. At one point, he picks up his PSP, continuing his game as he chews on the end of the gyoza.

When they finish eating, Kuroo stands to clear the empty boxes. He’s throwing them in the trash when he hears the music of Kenma’s game suddenly turn off. When he looks back over his shoulder, Kenma is lowering the device to the table. His face looks a little green. Kuroo doesn’t get the chance to ask him if he’s okay. He suddenly jumps to his feet to run towards the bathroom. His legs are still a little weak, and he stumbles, falling to a knee before scrambling back to his feet and disappearing into Kuroo’s bedroom. Kuroo nervously follows after him.

He rounds the corner into the bathroom just as Kenma retches into the toilet. Kuroo is about to step into the bathroom, not sure what he’s going to do, maybe hold Kenma’s hair while he throws up, but Kenma’s foot shoots out to kick the door shut.

Kuroo stands in front of the closed door for a long minute, wanting to help but also understanding when he’s clearly not wanted. After a long minute of silence from the other side of the door, Kuroo is about to ask if Kenma needs anything, when there’s a knock on the front door. Knowing it must be Akaashi, Kuroo leaves the bathroom to let him in.

“How is he?” Akaashi asks as he steps inside, removing his shoes.

“He’s in the bathroom. I think the Valium made him sick,” Kuroo says. “But he seems much calmer now. I got him to eat a little bit. Although, he probably just threw it all up.”

Akaashi nods. “Thank you for doing this. I know he loves his privacy, but it’s a huge relief that he’s letting you help. I’m glad he has you.”

Kuroo turns to pour Akaashi a cup of tea, but mostly to hide the slight burn on his cheeks. “I’m assuming you’ve already talked with the police?” It had been nearly an hour since Kuroo called him, after all.

“Yes, I just finished with them. I was able to help to their satisfaction, and I convinced them that if they need anything from Kenma, to call either you or myself. They assured me they’d keep in touch,” Akaashi tells him, and Kuroo makes a mental note to start keeping his phone on him while he’s at work. Hopefully Shirofuku will understand.

They hear the door to the bathroom open and both turn towards the bedroom as Kenma steps out. His head is ducked and he stands by the half wall for a moment.

“Would one of you… please get my toothbrush?” he murmurs, his voice soft, embarrassed. Kuroo wishes he wouldn’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about.

“I’ll go,” Akaashi tells him. “Is there anything else you’d like me to grab for you? You probably shouldn’t stay at your place tonight. You’re welcome to stay with me and Bokuto.”

“Or here,” Kuroo quickly offers, knowing that Akaashi would never offer up someone else’s place on their behalf, but also knowing that Kenma might not want to stay with Bokuto. Kuroo remembers Bokuto telling him how nervous Kenma gets around his energy. “You’re welcome to stay here too.”

Kenma looks between them. “If you could also get me my pajamas and a change of clothes, and… my pills,” Kenma finally says, his eyes settling on Akaashi’s chest. Kuroo notes then how absolutely exhausted he looks, like he could pass out at any moment. “I think I’ll just stay here with Kuro….”

Kuroo can’t explain why his heart starts to go haywire in his chest. It must have something to do with the double sucker punch Kenma just delivered, saying he wants to stay with Kuroo, and also the nickname. Although, perhaps the nickname is more due to exhaustion than being intentionally given. Kuroo doesn’t care though, and he quickly nods to assure him that’s fine with him.

“Oh, and also… Jiji….” Kenma mumbles.

Kuroo isn’t sure what that means, but Akaashi smiles. “Got it. I’ll be right back.” And he leaves.

Kuroo doesn’t realize he’s staring until Kenma glances up at him. Mumbling an apology, Kuroo hurries to the kitchen to get Kenma a glass of water. Kenma takes it gratefully and rinses his mouth out at the kitchen sink. When Akaashi returns, Kenma takes the offered toothbrush, pills, and clothes. It’s obvious they’re trying to conceal something under the folds of clothes, but Kuroo thinks he catches sight of a tail. A black tail. A stuffed animal?

“I’m going to head back home now,” Akaashi tells the two of them, but then he turns his attention to Kenma. “We’ll handle everything, Kenma, so you don’t need to worry about a thing. I’ll go into the office tomorrow and explain everything to them. They still have our original submission, so we don’t need to start over from scratch. I’ll figure out later how we’re going to continue working on the project until we get the equipment replaced.” Kenma nods, keeping his eyes on the floor. Akaashi opens his arms for a hug and Kenma doesn’t hesitate in complying, practically falling onto Akaashi’s chest. “Everything will be just fine, Kenma. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Kenma nods again, and Akaashi takes his leave. Kenma sets his stuff on the couch, and Kuroo doesn’t bother to tell him that there’s no way Kuroo is making him sleep on the couch. When Kenma disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change, Kuroo strips his bed and pulls on a new set of sheets. He pulls a few extra blankets out of the bottom drawer of his dresser and throws them on top. He didn’t miss the pile of blankets on Kenma’s own bed when he went to get his Valium. Hopefully this will be good enough for him. Grabbing one of the pillows and an extra blanket, he takes them to the couch.

When Kenma emerges from the bathroom, he pads barefoot over the couch. He eyes Kuroo sitting in the middle of it.

“You’re taking the bed,” Kuroo tells him matter-of-factly.

“You’re too tall for the couch,” Kenma points out. There’s not much protest in his words though. He’s much too exhausted, and Kuroo knows that it won’t take him long at all to win this argument.

“And you’re my guest who’s had a really rough day. You’re taking the bed.”

That’s all it takes. Kenma nods, collecting his things from the couch and carrying them into the bedroom. Kuroo stands and follows him.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Kuroo tells him, as he collects a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt to wear to bed. He doesn’t think Kenma would appreciate his normal sleeping attire. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Kenma nods as he climbs into Kuroo’s bed. Kuroo catches sight of the stuffed animal, the black cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Ah, Jiji…. That makes sense now.

“Uhm, the meds make me really tired, so I’ll probably be asleep before you finish your shower,” Kenma starts to tell him, sitting cross-legged amongst the pile of blankets. “So, uhm, thank you, Kuro. For everything.”

Kuroo smiles with a nod. “It was no problem. I’m happy to help. I just wish there was more I could do.”

Kenma is shaking his head, even before Kuroo finishes. “You’ve done more than enough.” He doesn’t wait for a response to that. He crawls beneath the covers, turning over to face the window as he pulls them up past his chin until only his black roots are still visible. “Night Kuro.”

“Good night, Kenma.”

…

The uncomfortable couch on top of not taking any sleeping pills means that Kuroo is up before the sun the next morning. It takes a minute for the events of the previous night to come back to him, but when he does finally remember why he decided to sleep on the couch, he bolts upright, his head whipping around to look towards his bedroom.

The bed is a mess of blankets, piled in no discernible order, but Kuroo can clearly make out the shape of a human being hidden somewhere within the pile. Blond hair is splayed out across the end of the pillow Kenma is half hugging. He’s still fast asleep.

Kuroo takes a deep breath before pulling his sore body off the couch to start some water boiling for coffee. With the pot on the burner, Kuroo heads for the bathroom, trying not to be too much of a creep by staring at Kenma as he sleeps.

Once he’s relieved himself and prepared himself a cup of coffee, he sits at his stool, lights a cigarette, and sets to work on his half finished canvas. He figures he has a couple of hours until Kenma wakes up anyway, so it’s alright if he loses himself in his art for a while.

It’s nearly three hours later, and Kuroo is halfway through his second cigarette, when Kenma wakes up. Kuroo doesn’t notice though until Kenma suddenly speaks up next to him.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Kenma mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Kuroo lets out a rather embarrassing yelp, nearly falling from his stool in surprise. His paint brush slips from his fingers. He reaches out to grab it before it can hit the floor and ends up with dark green paint smeared all up his arm and across his palm. By some miracle, he manages not to drop his cigarette in his other hand onto the carpet. When Kuroo looks over at the bed, Kenma is sitting on the end with his legs tucked up under him, a blanket pulled tightly around himself. His eyes are wide, a hand covering his mouth. Kuroo tries not to get too caught up in how cute his bedhead is. His heart is racing fast enough as it is.

“Sorry,” Kenma murmurs from behind his hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” Kuroo murmurs, putting out his cigarette and standing to look for a rag in his chest. “I tend to get caught up in a painting and I… sort of lose focus of everything around me.”

“You’re really good,” Kenma murmurs, eyeing the canvas. His eyes shift to one of the other easels with a completed painting on it, then to the artwork pinned up all over the walls. He stands from the bed, bringing the blanket with him as he moves to get a closer look at some of the paintings. “I guess I was too out of it last night to notice all these. These are incredible, Kuro.”

Again with Kenma double sucker punching him right in the gut. The sincere compliment and that nickname again, this time without him being on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. It takes Kuroo a moment to formulate an articulate response as he tries to clean the paint off his arm.

“They’re not that incredible. I still have them because I can’t sell them,” Kuroo responds. Kenma is still looking over the paintings as Kuroo sits back at his stool and picks up his brush.

“That’s just because you haven’t tried selling them here yet,” Kenma says as he makes his way back over to the bed. He plops back down on the end, drawing his knees up to his chest and adjusting the blanket around them. “I think they’re good.”

Kuroo can’t help his small smile as he dips his brush into the paint on his palette. “Thank you,” he murmurs. He looks over at Kenma. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m pissed. And upset. But if you mean the whole panic attack thing, then I’m feeling much better. The Valium usually lasts about two days with me, so I’ll be fine for a while,” Kenma tells him.

“Yeah, I know that sucks, but hopefully the police will be able to find the people who broke into your apartment. They might even be able to recover some of your equipment,” Kuroo says. He knows that they probably won’t, that it’s really unlikely, but he’s attempting to be optimistic for Kenma’s sake.

He can feel eyes on him as he starts to dab the paint onto the canvas. The work is nearly complete, which means that all Kuroo has to do is touch up the finer details. But sometimes, that can be the hardest part.

“I have work tonight,” Kuroo starts to tell Kenma after a moment of silence. “But before I leave I’ll go get a spare key made for you. You’re welcome to stay here while I’m at work. I have food and a PS4 with a decent collection of games-”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Kenma interrupts, and when Kuroo looks over at him, he sees the hint of a smirk hiding behind his knees.

Kuroo laughs. “Alright. Point is, I don’t have much to do here, but hopefully you won’t be too bored.”

“I’ll manage,” Kenma replies, his voice quiet. “Thank you, Kuro. You really don’t have to do all of this for me. But I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. It’s really not a problem.”

When Kuroo turns back to the painting, Kenma stands, tossing the blanket back onto the bed. “I’m going to shower and… stuff.”

Kuroo nods at his painting and hears the bathroom door close somewhere behind him. He has half a thought to boil some water so that Kenma can make tea or coffee, but then the next thing he knows, Kenma is standing beside him, running a towel over his hair and watching him paint.

“Why is there a painting of a volleyball court hanging above your toilet?”

“Because…” Kuroo murmurs distractedly, his focus nearly entirely on the delicate strokes of his brush. “That’s where… the shit belongs.”

Kuroo is startled out of his trance-like state when a sharp smack stings the back of his head. He pulls back from the canvas sharply, looking up at a frowning Kenma.

“Stop saying your work is shit,” he grumbles. “That painting is amazing. I can feel the anticipation in it. You probably painted that before a big tournament, right? The lighting and the perspective, and the fact that the gym is completely empty… it kind of gave me the chills. I’m taking it down.”

Kuroo’s eyes are still wide as he watches Kenma head back into the bathroom, returning a moment later with the canvas held carefully in his hands. He sits on the edge of the bed again, the towel draped over his head and the painting in his lap. Kuroo shakes his head with a smile and picks up his palette to mix some more colors.

“If you like it, you can keep it.” He dabs a few drops of a couple different colors onto one corner of the palette.

“I’m not going to just take it. I’ll pay for it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kuroo snorts. “Consider it a gift.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything, but Kuroo doesn’t have to look at him to know that those lips are pulled down into a pout. It’s so familiar to him by now that he doesn’t have to look at Kenma to see it. He has a perfect image of it in his head. A smile pulls at his lips as he pulls a paint knife from his chest to start mixing the paint.

“The painting on that other stand… how’d you come up with that?” Kenma asking, pointing to one of Kuroo’s other easels. Kuroo looks up to the painting in question.

Kuroo runs his eyes over the dark tones of the painting. Sometimes his imagination likes to run rampant on him, and he usually has no choice but to indulge it or else the ideas will consume him. This is one of those indulgent paintings. It’s a swampy landscape with a woman standing in the ankle deep water. Her pale skin is naked except for the vines that wrap up her body, twisting through her waist-length black hair. Protruding from her shoulder blades are two tattered and torn wings, and she looks up to the swamp canopy that she’ll never see the other side of again.

“Oh, that. Uh, remember how, when you asked what I paint, I said sometimes I paint whatever comes to mind?”

“’The crazy shit that pops into your head’ if I recall correctly, which I’m pretty sure I do,” Kenma says, completely deadpan.

Kuroo just stares at him for a moment. Did Kenma just… tease him? A smirk threatens to pull at Kenma’s lips. He really did just tease Kuroo.

“Uh, yeah, that…” Kuroo says with a cough to try and hide how flustered he is. “Well… that’s how. It’s just nonsense, indulging my overactive imagination and wasting canvas on something I’ll never sell.”

“I actually… want to buy it. More specifically, I want to buy the copyright to incorporate the character into a game.”

Kuroo’s knife pauses in the paint mixture and he frowns, turning a questioning look onto Kenma. “Just because I complain about not selling any of my works doesn’t mean that you have to buy all of them. I’ll do just fine on my own. I don’t need your pity purchases.”

“It’s not a pity purchase,” Kenma tells him, seemingly unaffected by Kuroo’s accusatory tone. “I’ve been working on the concept for a new game and I think your character is the piece I’ve been missing. I plotted out the points, but something was missing, a link that progresses the mission, and I really like your concept.”

“But… it’s just a painting, I don’t have it copyrighted. If you want the character, just take her.”

“She’s not my character. You created her. If I were to use her, that’d be theft,” Kenma points out. “Of course, with buying the copyright, I would also ask you to consult on the project and even create the concept art and character designs for this character. We wouldn’t only be buying the character, but your help in turning her into a NPC for my game.”

Kuroo can’t quite figure out what he’s supposed to say about that. Kenma seems completely serious, and Kuroo can’t sense any pity in his tone or his words. He seems to really like Kuroo’s painting.

“Uhm… okay?”

“Of course, I would need to talk to Akaashi about it first, but I think he’d agree that she fits perfectly.”

Kuroo just nods. He’s still not sure what to say. Does this count as his first sale in Shibuya? Does it count that it’s to his neighbor and crush? Does it double count since he’s also selling the copyright and his consulting services, whatever the hell that means?

“You know… when you do that, it’s really calming,” Kenma says, interrupting Kuroo’s thoughts. He follows Kenma’s gaze to his palette, where his knife is stilled in the paint.

“Yeah, it is,” Kuroo agrees, resuming his mixing.

Kenma falls quiet, pulling out his PSP to play, and Kuroo turns his focus back to the painting. Kuroo tries to stay more alert of his surroundings as he works. He doesn’t want to completely ignore Kenma. But before he knows it, he’s finished with the painting and Kenma is no longer on the bed. A look around reveals that he’s in the kitchen, hunched over a bowl of rice and some vegetable stir fry. He scrambles for his phone and discovers that it’s nearly two in the afternoon.

“Shit, sorry Kenma, I’m a horrible host,” Kuroo apologizes as he quickly cleans off his brushes.

Kenma shakes his head as he pops a carrot into his mouth. “That’s okay. You’re letting me stay here, so the least I can do is make lunch. It’s kinda lame, but I made some for you too.” He gestures to the covered pan on the burner. “I called to you but you didn’t answer, so I just left it in the pan for you.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo murmurs. Once he has everything put away, he grabs a plate and bowl and serves himself. He takes the seat across from Kenma at the table. “I finished the piece, so I promise I won’t ignore you anymore. Anything in particular you want to do? I have to leave in about an hour and a half, but until then….”

“How far are you in my game?” Kenma asks, taking another bite.

“Oh, uhm, I’m at the part where…. Let me show you.”

They move over to the couch and Kuroo powers up his PSP. He sits at the end of the couch, and expects Kenma to sit at the opposite end, but instead he plops down right next to Kuroo, their elbows brushing. Kuroo struggles really hard to focus on navigating the start menu.

Kuroo ends up continuing the level he left off on, and Kenma watches closely as he plays. He makes a few little comments as Kuroo tries to work through the level. “You’re never going to finish the level playing like that”, “Oh, I suppose that works too”, “Don’t forget to check the chests”, and every time Kuroo tells him to shut up and let him play, to which he either receives an eye roll or a snarky reply. They fall into comfortable banter, the sound of the game music in the background, and every time Kuroo glances at the time, he wishes it would stop so that he never has to leave this spot right here.

But eventually, he has to save the game and get ready for work. When he emerges from the bathroom where he had disappeared to in order to change, he sees Kenma right where he left him on the couch, starting up another play through of his game.

Kuroo snags his phone and keys from the dresser, and freezes. “Shit,” he curses. “I forgot to make you a copy of my key…”

“It’s okay, I’m not planning on leaving anyway,” Kenma says with a shrug, not looking away from the television screen.

“I hate to leave you here without a key though. I guess I can leave you mine. I won’t need it, as long as you’re here to let me in when I get back.”

Kenma nods, and Kuroo sets his key on the low table in the kitchen.

“Have a good day at work,” Kenma calls back as Kuroo heads for the front door.

Kuroo pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and looks back at Kenma curled up on the couch. The feeling of domesticity that rushed through him at Kenma’s sentiment is enough to make the butterflies in his stomach flutter and his heart race. As he pulls the door open with a “I’ll be home soon”, Kuroo wishes that it could be like this every day, that he had someone to send him off and welcome him back home. But not just anyone, he realizes as he takes the stairs down to the lobby. He wishes it could be Kenma, in a more permanent situation.

But he can never have that. Kenma deserves so much better than having to deal with Kuroo’s shit. He’s too good, much too good, for Kuroo. He deserves someone that has their shit together and is mentally stable, someone that can properly care for him and love him the way he deserves. And that someone is most certainly not Kuroo. So until he goes back to his apartment, until he gets sick of staying with Kuroo, he’ll enjoy this little slice of what could’ve been while it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I know nothing about creating video games or the art concepts that go into them. I am pulling all of this out of my ass to fit my plot :)))
> 
> Also: next weekend I'm heading back to the states for 2 weeks for the holidays, so there will be no update in 2 weeks. The next update will come in three weeks, on the 7th probably. So happy holidays everyone! I'll see you next year


	11. I Owe You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year guys! Fingers crossed that 2018 treats us better than 2017 did
> 
> So sorry that this is a week late. I meant to post this last weekend but I was still pretty jet lagged and I totally forgot. Anyways, it's up now, so please enjoy!

Kenma stays with Kuroo for the next few days, much to Kuroo’s delight. Kuroo was afraid he’d go back to his apartment as soon as his anxiety wore off the following morning, but it would seem that he’s still nervous about going back to his apartment void of all its usual equipment. The second night, Kenma does step back into his apartment for the first time since the robbery, but only to collect a few things, one of which a futon he insisted on sleeping on so that Kuroo could have his bed back. Kuroo tried to argue, but Kenma seemed pretty determined, so he let it go. He did offer up all the blankets Kenma had slept with the previous night though, and Kenma eagerly accepted them.

Living together with Kenma, even knowing how temporary it is, does a lot to Kuroo’s already fragile state. It gets harder and harder for Kuroo to hide his affections from Kenma. It’s hard for him to contain how happy he is to watch Kenma wake up every morning, all groggy and adorable, how much he loves coming home from work every night to him rather than an empty apartment, how nice it is to have Kenma’s company, even if he is very silent company.

Akaashi stops by nearly every day, sometimes to keep Kenma in the loop on his meetings with their bosses regarding the robbery, but mostly just to see how Kenma is holding up. He’s calmed down greatly since the incident, but Kuroo knows he’s growing restless and frustrated without all his equipment to keep him occupied. Akaashi had brought him a spare laptop with enough processing power for Kenma to make small tweaks and adjustments to the game, but it’s obvious to Kuroo that it’s not quite enough for Kenma. He needs his set up back.

The police assured them that they’d do what they could to find and return Kenma’s equipment, but Kuroo decides not to voice his doubts. He knows the likelihood of the police finding that equipment is very slim. It’s probably already been sold or pawned.

Kuroo is at work the following Saturday night when he gets a call from the police department. Yaku had been made aware of the situation soon after the incident, and agrees to cover Kuroo’s customers while he takes the call. Kuroo hurriedly steps out from behind the bar and ducks into the staff room before answering the phone. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little anxious to hear what the officer has to say.

“Hello?” he answers.

_“Kuroo-san?”_

“Yes, this is Kuroo.”

_“This is Detective Yamakawa. I’m the lead on Kozume-san’s case,”_ the officer introduces. _“I was told to contact this number regarding any information on the case?”_

“Ah, yes, Kozume-san has been staying with me since the robbery,” Kuroo answers. “You can also contact his business partner, Akaashi Keiji. Were you given his number as well?”

_“Yes I did receive a number for an Akaashi Keiji,”_ the officer hums. _“Well to get to the point of this call, I wanted to inform Kozume-san that we located all of his computer equipment. When our forensic team processed it for evidence, they discovered that it was all quite heavily secured. The thieves probably realized they couldn’t sell equipment that no one would be able to access and had it dumped. From what the techs can tell, it’s all in working order and we’ve finished processing it, so it’s ready to be collected. I will remind you, however, that Kozume-san needs to be present in order to collect his equipment. We can’t release it to anyone other than him.”_

Kuroo is shocked to say the least. He never expected that equipment to be recovered. Of course he’s more than relieved that it was, he’s just very surprised. He should’ve known though that Kenma would have a pretty heavy security system in place, and that it’d make it very hard for the thieves to sell the equipment. Maybe Kenma knew this as well, and that’s why he seemed a little optimistic that his equipment would be found and returned.

“That’s wonderful news, thank you Officer,” Kuroo says. “I’ll let Kozume-san know and we’ll be over to collect his equipment first thing tomorrow morning.” Kuroo is sure that Kenma will want his things back as soon as possible.

The officer gives him a few more details, then they hang up and Kuroo quickly types out a text to Kenma.

**_[18:09] Kuroo:_ ** _the police found your equipment! and it seems that its still in working order. theyre already closed tonight but i told him youd come by tomorrow morning to pick it up. is that okay? i can go with you if you want_

He doesn’t have time to wait for a response, putting the phone back in his pocket and hurrying back out to relieve Yaku of his shift. He still has quite a few hours left of his shift, and when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket not long after stepping back behind the bar, he knows it’s going to be an exceptionally long night.

Eventually though, his shift does come to an end at well after three in the morning, and he hurries to change out of his vest and grab his things so he can head back home. When he pulls his phone out of his pocket, he sees two messages, both from Kenma. He opens them as he hurries down the block.

**_[18:11] Kenma:_ ** _Really? They found all of it?  
**[18:13] Kenma:** That would actually be really great if you don’t mind…._

Kuroo smiles as he types out his reply.

**_[03:23] Kuroo:_ ** _yes really! and of course i don’t mind_

**_[03:24] Kenma:_ ** _Thank you Kuro. I really appreciate it.  
**[03:24] Kenma:** I’m out feeding the cats. You can join me if you’re not too tired._

**_[03:25] Kuroo:_ ** _i’m never too tired. i’ll be there in 15_

…

The station opens at eight, and Kenma insisted that he wanted to be there as soon as they opened so he could go in, collect his things, then leave and get it over with as quickly as possible. So at seven thirty, Kuroo cautiously nudges Kenma awake.

Kenma gets up without a word and quickly gets ready to leave. When Kuroo offers him breakfast, he silently refuses, and Kuroo can see the slight tremors in his hands. He’s growing anxious. Unfortunately Kuroo doesn’t think there is anything he can do to help.

They’re getting ready to leave, Kuroo pulling on his shoes and unlocking the door, when he notices Kenma hesitating in the middle of the small room. He’s fidgeting with his phone in his hands, staring down intently at the screen.

“Everything okay?” Kuroo questions cautiously.

“Uhm, do you have…” he hesitates with a frown, then looks up at Kuroo. He’s still unable to meet Kuroo’s eyes, but he’s getting much closer, his gaze falling somewhere around Kuroo’s chin. “Do you have a pair of headphones I can borrow? Mine….”

His probably got stolen. Kuroo figures that Kenma is probably more comfortable wearing headphones while out in public and nods, toeing off his shoes and hurrying into his bedroom. He finds a pair of headphones in the drawer of the bedside table and hands them to Kenma. Kenma quickly unravels them and plugs them into his phone as Kuroo pulls his shoes back on. When they’re both ready, they leave the apartment and head down to the ground floor.

Kenma pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and keeps his eyes on the ground as they walk down the sidewalk. His hands are tucked into the front pocket and Kuroo can hear the faint sound of Kenma’s music. When they pass a group of people waiting at a bus stop, Kenma ducks around to Kuroo’s other side, putting Kuroo between him and the small crowd. Kuroo tries not to stare too much at him as he leads him around the crowd. He really wants to wrap an arm around Kenma’s shoulders and pull him into his side, to shield him from all the strangers around him, but he knows he needs to keep his hands to himself, tucked safely in his pockets.

After about twenty minutes of walking, they reach the small police station and this time it’s Kuroo’s turn to hesitate. Images of the last time he was at a police station flood through his mind, causing his limbs to seize and Kenma to run squarely into his back. Panic, blood dripping into his eyes and matting his hair, his wrist burning from a sprain he refuses to let the medic look at, police officers trying to coax him into telling them what happened. They convinced him to come down to station, to sit with an officer and explain what happened to him. He remembers sitting in that hard plastic chair in a daze. But he also remembers not saying a word. He couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t betray him. It was an accident after all.

“Kuro?”

The soft voice pulls him out of his downward spiraling thoughts. His eyes fall to Kenma, standing at his side and looking up at him with a slightly concerned expression.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The question has the power to either lift him the rest of the way out of the downward spiral of his thoughts, or cause his composure to completely crumble. He considers telling Kenma that he’ll wait outside while Kenma takes care of things inside. A hundred different excuses as to why he shouldn’t step inside that station fly through his mind. Kuroo pushes them all down, and thankfully, he manages a small smile and nods. No crumbling today.

“Yeah, sorry, let’s go,” he says, continuing towards the front doors to effectively cut off any further questioning. He can’t leave Kenma alone to deal with this by himself after all.

Kenma follows quickly after him. He keeps his hood up and turns his music back up as they enter the small lobby. He veers off to wait by the few chairs on the back wall as Kuroo approaches the front desk. The screen of his PSP makes its way back up to Kenma’s nose as he turns all of his focus onto the game.

“Uhm, we’re here to pick up some evidence that’s ready to be released,” Kuroo tells the woman on the other side of the desk.

“Case number?” she asks monotonously.

Kuroo had written it down on his phone when the officer told him last night, and he reads it back to her. After a few keystrokes, the woman nods and calls into a radio letting Detective Yamakawa know that they are here. She tells him to wait a few minutes, and Kuroo crosses the room to take a seat where Kenma is still standing. He doesn’t follow Kuroo’s lead in taking a seat. Instead he remains absorbed in his PSP, quickly and expertly pressing at the buttons. Kuroo tries not to watch him too closely, he’s nervous enough without Kuroo’s eyes on him, and instead watches officers pass by on the other side of the door with a narrow window. He tries not to let his earlier thoughts catch back up to him, but it’s hard when there’s nothing distracting him from the fact he’s in a police station.

Eventually, the door opens and a man dressed in a crisp suit steps out. Kenma slowly lowers his PSP, but his eyes remain fixated on the floor. The detective greets the two of them with a bow, and doesn’t seem too put off by Kenma’s ducked head and lack of response. He must’ve been informed on the situation. Without preamble, the detective leads the two of them into the station and down the few winding halls. Kenma sticks close by Kuroo’s side, his hand coming up to grip the end of Kuroo’s sleeve. That little hint of trust alone is enough to completely distract Kuroo from their location and the memories it brings.

They’re lead into a large room with shelves upon shelves of boxes, all marked and labeled with case numbers and the evidence they contain. Out on the table in the middle of the room is a lot of familiar equipment. Kenma instantly releases Kuroo’s sleeve to take a seat at the table and start turning things on. Both Kuroo and the detective watch curiously as Kenma enters passwords and eases his way through his extensive security system.

After many keystrokes and mouse clicks, a hint of tension eases from Kenma’s shoulders as he sits back in the chair. He glances up at Kuroo.

“It’s all still functioning,” he tells Kuroo, his voice small, but relieved. “And nothing is missing or damaged.”

“Our techs assumed that everything was still in working order, but it was hard for them to tell without being able to access the systems,” Detective Yamakawa explains. “All of the secured equipment had been dumped behind a pawnshop, and when the owner found it, he remembered the two men that tried to sell it to him. He had bought all the other things, such as the video games and the computer accessories, but he set it all aside when he called us to report the dumped equipment. We believe everything is here, so if something is missing, please let us know. If you’re satisfied with it, I’ll just have you sign a few things and you can take it home with you.”

He pulls a few sheets of paper from a file and slides them across the table to Kenma along with a pen. Kenma takes the pen and starts to sign where the detective indicates, shying away slightly when the detective takes a step closer.

“How did you guys get here?” the detective asks Kuroo. “Did you drive, or did you take the bus?”

“We walked actually. Our building isn’t far,” Kuroo tells him.

“Well this is a lot of equipment for you two to carry back. If you like, I can have an officer give you a lift,” the detective offers.

“That would be most appreciated.” Kuroo hadn’t considered how they’d get all Kenma’s things back to his apartment on foot.

Kuroo and Kenma, with the help of Detective Yamakawa and another officer, get all of Kenma’s equipment loaded into the trunk of one of the police cars. The two of them climb into the backseat, Kuroo attempting to comfortably fit his long legs in the cramped area and failing. Kenma keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his PSP and Kuroo exchanges light conversation with the officer.

When they arrive at the building, the officer helps them carry everything up to Kenma’s apartment. The officer departs shortly after, and Kenma immediately dives into setting everything back up just the way it was before the robbery. Kuroo wordlessly begins to help him.

It doesn’t take them long to get everything back in place and Kenma quickly begins switching things on.  He pulls up a number of files, nervously biting at his lower lip as he checks what looks like his game files. When he releases a sigh and leans back in his chair, Kuroo assumes that everything is intact. For the first time since they left Kuroo’s apartment this morning, Kenma removes the headphones from his ears. He rolls them up and hands them to Kuroo.

“Thanks Kuro,” Kenma murmurs.

“Oh, yeah, it was no problem. I didn’t need them anyway,” Kuroo shrugs.

“No, not for the headphones,” Kenma quickly corrects. “Well, yeah, for the headphones, but for everything else too.”

“Oh,” Kuroo mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It was no problem, but… I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did everything,” Kenma insists. “You did all the talking at the police station so that I didn’t have to. And you also let me stay with you for all that time. You didn’t have to do that for me, but you did. And I’m really grateful.”

Kenma’s words make disappointment shoot through his whole body. That’s right. Now that he has his things back, now that the case is going to be closed, Kenma is probably going to want to go back to his own apartment. There’s really no need for him to stay with Kuroo anymore. Of course he’s happy that things turned out the way they did, that Kenma’s equipment managed to be recovered, but he can’t help wish that maybe it had taken longer for the police to find all of it. The thought makes him feel extremely guilty and selfish, but he can’t help it.

His thoughts are interrupted when, suddenly, Kenma’s face is pressed into his chest, his arms wrapped around Kuroo’s waist in a tight hug. Kuroo freezes, not even daring to breathe. His eyes are surely wide as saucers as he looks down at the black roots beneath his chin. He’s positive that Kenma can feel his heart racing in his chest, and his embarrassment starts to color his cheeks.

“Thanks Kuro,” Kenma repeats into Kuroo’s chest. “I owe you.”

Kuroo slowly lowers his arms to wrap around Kenma, hugging him back, feeling the way his shoulder blades shift beneath his heavy sweatshirt, memorizing the way his smaller body fits so perfectly against Kuroo’s. He doesn’t ever want to let go, but he knows he can’t hold Kenma forever, and when Kenma starts to pull back, he lets him go.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kuroo insists when he manages to find his voice. “I was happy to help, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat if you needed it.”

Kenma offers him a small smile, then turns back to his desks, now fully restored to how they were before the robbery. Kuroo hesitates in the middle of the room for a minute, then mutters a quick goodbye before heading for the door.

“See you tonight,” Kenma says, his voice distracted as he dives right into his work. It must feel nice for him to have his equipment back.

Kuroo lets himself out and crosses the short distance to his own apartment. Once inside, he kicks off his shoes and stares a long minute at Kenma’s futon, neatly folded and placed against the wall. His duffle with his clothes is sitting on top of the folded futon, and Akaashi’s spare laptop is still open on the table. Kuroo passes them all by as he crosses to his art corner and takes the seat there. He needs a distraction from the knowledge that Kenma will come pick his things up sooner rather than later. That Kenma will no longer be staying here with Kuroo. Kuroo knows it’s stupid for this to get him so down. He’s just going back across the hall. He’s literally right there. It’s not like he’s leaving Tokyo.

But Kuroo can’t help the gloom that starts to envelop him. Kenma may not be leaving the city, but he is leaving this apartment. Kuroo will no longer get to come home to the blond sprawled out across the couch with the laptop on his stomach. He won’t get to hear Kenma’s muttered curses every time he fails a level. He won’t wake up to see Kenma still sound asleep on his futon clinging to his stuffed cat. He doesn’t get to share this space with Kenma anymore, and already it’s become so dead and lonely. Before the robbery, Kuroo only ever saw Kenma in the middle of the night out feeding those cats, and occasionally they’d run into each other in the hallway. When Kenma started staying with Kuroo here, he got to see him all the time. He was always here. Kuroo doesn’t want to go back to their too short night time talks.

But he doesn’t have a choice. He knew this was just temporary, and as it is he got a lot more time with Kenma than he anticipated. He should count himself lucky. He should be grateful for that time and remember it fondly. He should be happy. So why is he so miserable?


	12. Nothing To Be Sorry For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I've been dealing with a lot of shit in my personal life and well, this fic is really difficult to work on even when I am in the right mental state. Thanks for being patient with me, and I hope you enjoy the update!

Kuroo is still laying awake in bed after a long night at work and then out with Kenma feeding the cats. His mind won’t stop, and although he took some sleep medication, it seems to be taking longer than usual to kick in. Kenma collected his things before Kuroo went to work that afternoon, and watching him leave with that duffle bag over his shoulder and the stuffed cat under his arm was more upsetting than Kuroo really wants to dwell on. But here he is, at nearing four thirty in the morning, laying awake in bed, dwelling on that sight and the feelings that went along with it.

He knows he really needs to try and rein in these feelings. They’re not healthy for him, and can only possibly end in heartbreak. There’s no way Kenma will ever return his feelings. Who could ever care about and love someone like Kuroo? He’s a mess, and no one deserves to be dragged into the nightmare that is his life. Especially not Kenma. He knows Kenma deserves so much better than him. He knows that Kenma deserves someone that can care for him properly. Kuroo was such a disaster while Kenma was having his panic attack. He had no idea what to do and he’s sure he only succeeded in making things worse. That’s not what Kenma needs, it’s not what he deserves. So Kuroo knows he needs to get over this love struck school boy routine, but that’s easier said than done.

A soft knock interrupts Kuroo’s thoughts and he sits up in bed, looking curiously towards the front door, despite not being able to see it from his bed. He doesn’t stand. Surely he imagined the sound. There’s no way someone is knocking on his door at four thirty in the morning. But then another soft knock follows the first and Kuroo climbs out of bed. It’s not until he’s reaching for the doorknob that he thinks he should’ve grabbed a knife or something. Or at least pulled on a shirt and pair of sweatpants as opposed to answering the door in his red boxer briefs. Too late now.

He pulls open the door cautiously, then relaxes when he sees that it’s just Kenma. His hair is all rumpled on one side of his head, as if he just crawled out of bed as well. He looks a little anxious, his eyes on the wider side as they flick from spot to spot on the floor. He has the stuffed cat tucked under one arm and the other hand is gripping his PSP, the pause menu of his game blinking on the screen.

Kuroo watches as Kenma’s eyes flick up when he opens the door, then widen a little more before quickly looking back down, a bright red starting to color his cheeks. Kuroo tenses again and nearly slams the door in Kenma’s face when the surprised blush reminds him that he’s in nothing but his tight boxer briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Kuroo tries to reposition himself behind the door as he stutters a greeting.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” Kuroo asks, trying to hide his embarrassment. He really is an idiot. Who else would be knocking on his door? Perhaps his sleeping medication is kicking in after all. Why else would his brain be too muddled to realize that the only person that would knock on his door at this time would be Kenma, and instruct him to put on some damn pants before answering the door?

“Uhm, I’m sorry if I woke you up,” Kenma murmurs, to which Kuroo quickly dismisses the apology. Kenma didn’t wake him up. “But, uhm…. I can’t sleep in that apartment yet. It’s still…. It’s giving me….”

He doesn’t have to finish any of his sentences for Kuroo to understand what he’s trying to say. Kuroo opens the door a little wider and gestures with his chin for Kenma to enter. Kenma doesn’t hesitate to take him up on the invitation, stepping inside and kicking off his slippers.

“Go ahead and take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch,” Kuroo tells him, making his way towards the hideously uncomfortable couch. His sleeping pills are starting to make him groggy, so perhaps he’ll pass out soon enough that he won’t notice how uncomfortable he is. And honestly, he’d sleep on that couch every day of his life if it meant having Kenma close again.

A hand grabbing at his wrist stops him and he looks back at Kenma in sleepy confusion. “No, I don’t mean to kick you out of your bed. I can take the couch,” Kenma says.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not making you sleep on the couch,” Kuroo insists. The pills are really kicking in now and his eyelids are growing heavy. It’s making it hard for him to argue. “We could both sleep on the bed, it’s definitely big enough. And if I can share it easily with Bo, we’ll be able to share it even easier.”

Kenma hesitates, looking up at Kuroo, and the realization of what he just suggested slices through his drug induced haze to stare him straight in the face. His own eyes fly wide open and he trips over his own words as he quickly tries to backpedal.

“I mean…! Wait, no, I wasn’t suggesting… Shit, no… fuck,” Kuroo splutters. “I’m sorry, that was incredibly forward of me, I just….” He really wishes Kenma would just say something, or slap him, so he knows what the blond is thinking. Because right now he’s just getting a blank look that could be thoughtful, but could also be shocked. Kuroo has no idea and it’s killing him.

“It’s okay,” Kenma finally says, and now Kuroo is the one that’s surprised as he continues. “I share a bed with Keiji all the time, and you’re not that much bigger than him.”

The only response Kuroo is physically capable of is a nod. Did Kenma really just agree to share a bed with him? His heart feels like it’s about to hammer right out of his chest. It’s a strange feeling to be happening right alongside the cloying drowsiness of his sleeping pills kicking in.

“Ah, okay… then… uhm, make yourself comfortable and… I took some sleeping pills that are starting to kick in so I need to lie down before I pass out,” Kuroo rambles. “I’m just going to find a shirt and pair of sweatpants first.”

“It’s okay,” Kenma repeats, and this time he keeps his eyes firmly on the floor as a faint blush starts to color his cheeks again. “You don’t need to. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Kuroo swears he’s two seconds from imploding. As it is, he thinks his heart has stopped beating. This is not good for his health. But before he can say or do something stupid, and before he collapses right there in the middle of his apartment, he climbs back into bed, onto the side furthest from the window, and turns his back to the other half of the bed. He feels the bed shift as Kenma climbs under the covers on the other side, and thanks every deity he can think of that he took those pills earlier and that they’re starting to drag him under. If he had been forced to lay awake with Kenma lying by his side for longer than this, he probably would’ve gone crazy. As it is, his body is warring against itself, way too excited over the fact he’s sharing a bed with Kenma, but also unable to resist the affects of the drugs for much longer. The last thing he hears before sleep claims him is Kenma’s muttered “Good night”. He’s not even sure whether or not he managed to reply before he’s out.

…

When Kuroo wakes, he feels more rested than he has in a long time. It also feels like he got a lot more sleep than usual. But as he slowly starts to gain consciousness, an entirely different realization claims the entirety of his focus. His whole body tenses when he recognizes a warmth against his back, and the hazy events of last night come flooding back to him. Kenma’s hair is tickling the bare skin of his back across his shoulder blades, the softest whispers of breath warming a spot just below. A cold hand is rested on Kuroo’s waist, and even colder feet are wedged between his calves. No wonder Kenma always sleeps under a pile of blankets.

That’s a very miniscule and fleeting thought though, the thought that _‘holy fuck Kenma is sleeping against me’_ much more prominent in Kuroo’s head. He’s holding his breath, afraid to move even the slightest bit and wake Kenma up or cause him to roll away. All he wants is to roll over and pull Kenma against him, to try and warm up his cold hands and feet as best he can, to press kisses all over his sleepy face. But Kuroo holds still, accepting that this moment right here is as intimate as they’ll ever be able to get. And for the moment, Kuroo thinks that’s enough.

Once his racing heart calms a little, and he feels confident that his breathing isn’t enough to wake Kenma, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. Unlocking the screen reveals that he really did manage to get more sleep than he usually does. It’s almost ten. Kuroo can’t remember when the last time he slept in this late was.

He has a few messages from Bokuto and Akaashi, but he decides to ignore them for now. He can answer those later, while he’s not completely distracted by Kenma curled up against his back. Kuroo eyes the pile of blankets Kenma has been using all last week still sitting on top of his dresser, and contemplates whether he can reach one without disturbing Kenma too much. He decides to try, but when he shifts forward to reach for the blanket on top of the pile, Kenma stirs. Kuroo freezes as Kenma moves in closer to Kuroo, his hand moving from his waist to wrap around his stomach. Kenma shifts so he’s fully spooning Kuroo, his legs tucking up into Kuroo’s, and Kuroo fights a shudder at the feeling of Kenma being pressed so close.

With the increased contact though, Kuroo realizes that Kenma is shivering. It would seem Kuroo’s body heat isn’t enough to warm him up, so Kuroo renews his attempt at reaching for the blanket. He’s just getting his fingers on it when he feels Kenma’s entire body go stiff as a board. Kuroo looks back over his shoulder at Kenma, but Kenma is already pulling away from Kuroo and leaping out of bed.

“I-I’m s-sorry!” he stutters, rushing to the bathroom. Kuroo doesn’t miss how red his cheeks are. “I d-didn’t mean t-to-”

Kuroo doesn’t get the chance to get a single word out and Kenma doesn’t even finish his own sentence before the bathroom door is slamming shut. Kuroo quickly stands and makes his way to the bathroom door. He doesn’t try to enter, he doesn’t want to enter, knowing Kenma needs his space, but he needs Kenma to know he’s not upset so that he doesn’t work himself up too much. He’s the exact opposite of upset, but Kenma doesn’t really need to know that.

“It’s okay, Kenma,” Kuroo tells him through the door. “I really didn’t mind. Tonight I’ll make sure you have enough blankets though. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that last night.”

He waits to see if Kenma will respond, although he’s not really expecting him to. He’s about to step back from the door when Kenma does answer.

“Sorry,” comes the soft murmur, so quiet Kuroo almost misses it.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Kuroo quickly assures him. “I’m going to make breakfast. I’ll make extra in case you want some.”

This time he doesn’t wait for an answer before leaving the bedroom and heading into the small kitchen. His heart is still racing, his thoughts still caught up on how it felt to have Kenma wrapped around him. It’s dangerous for him to think too hard on that feeling, but he can’t help it. It’s been so long since he’s woken up in someone’s arms like that. He thinks back to when Bokuto spent the night all that time ago, but that was different. Yes he loves Bokuto, but not in the way he loves Kenma. Waking in Kenma’s arms was so very different than waking in Bokuto’s. And it was even different than waking in Daishou’s. With Kenma, there’s this thrill, this aching in his chest, this need to hold him close and never let go. With Daishou, although Kuroo had loved him, the love was different than what he feels with Kenma. He always wanted to please Daishou, but not the simple desire to see Daishou happy. He knew that if he pleased Daishou, that Daishou probably wouldn’t hurt him. It was entirely out of self defense. Waking in Daishou’s arms every morning was almost as if waking from a nightmare to discover that it was real. He loved Daishou, but loving Daishou was constantly walking on egg shells. Kenma is different. Kuroo feels nothing except for unconditional, carefree love towards Kenma. And he wishes he could wake like that every morning.

Kuroo is nearly finished eating when he hears Kenma leave the bathroom. He shuffles into the main room, his handheld clutched in one hand, and slowly takes a seat at the table across from Kuroo. Kuroo slides a plate of rolled egg and rice and a bowl of miso towards him, and Kenma wordlessly picks up the spare set of chopsticks. He chooses a slice of egg and chews on the end.

Kuroo keeps his mouth shut. There are a lot of things he wants to say to Kenma, but decides to let Kenma decide if and when he wants to talk. It takes a couple minutes, but eventually Kenma does speak.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Kenma says into his egg.

“It was no problem,” Kuroo tells him. “And I didn’t mean to be presumptuous earlier when I told you I’d make sure you have enough blankets tonight. You don’t have to stay over again, but you’re welcome to if you’d like. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks Kuro,” Kenma murmurs. “I think… I think I will stay again. At least until I’m comfortable sleeping at my place again.”

“Of course,” Kuroo says with a smile. A question burns at the forefront of his mind, a question he’s been mulling over for quite a while, but never thought was appropriate to ask. Curiosity gets the better of him though and he finds the words pouring over his tongue. “Uhm, Kenma… You weren’t home when you got robbed, were you?”

Kenma shakes his head and the relief Kuroo feels is nearly indescribable. The event was traumatic enough for Kenma without him actually being there when he was robbed. He had been picturing men with guns breaking down Kenma’s door and threatening him as they robbed him, and he’s glad that it was simply his imagination running away with itself. He’s glad Kenma was safe, even though his apartment wasn’t.

“I was with my therapist,” Kenma starts to elaborate. “I have therapy every Tuesday afternoon. When I got back I saw what had happened.”

Kuroo nods in understanding and relief. “I’m glad you were safe.”

He can feel Kenma’s eyes on him as he stands to clean their plates from breakfast, but after a moment of washing, he hears the sounds of his game start up. He’s drying off and putting away the last of the dishes when he hears his phone vibrating on the bedside table. Kuroo heads into the bedroom to answer it. It’s probably Akaashi or Bokuto.

“He-”

_“Kuroo!”_ Bokuto’s voice cuts him off and Kuroo sighs, heading back into the front room and sitting at the table. _“You haven’t been answering my texts! I was afraid you were down again. Where were you? You’re okay right?”_ Despite his insistent questioning, his tone is really cheery. He doesn’t sound worried at all.

“I’m fine. I was asleep. People tend to do that in the mornings, you know.” Kuroo watches Kenma play his game, only half paying attention to Bokuto on the phone. Kenma doesn’t even have to be doing anything distracting to be distracting.

_“Yeah normal people, but not you,”_ Bokuto retorts. _“You always get up at stupid times.”_

“Shouldn’t you be in practice right now?”

_“I’m on break,”_ Bokuto brushes off. _“Do you have work tonight?”_

“No.”

_“Perfect, me neither. We’re coming over tonight to celebrate Kenma getting all his stuff back. It’s great that he and Akaashi don’t have to start all over!”_

“Yeah it is…” Kuroo murmurs, frowning as he watches Kenma on his PSP across the table. He lowers the phone from his ear. “Bokuto and Akaashi are coming over later to celebrate you and Akaashi not having to start your project over. Is that okay? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but I also don’t want to kick you out.”

Kenma shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ll stay,” Kenma says, then hesitates and looks up from his game. “At least, for a little while.”

Kuroo nods and lifts the phone back to his ear. “Alright, bro, sounds good. But if you end up completely wasted again, this time you’re sleeping on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't promise that I'll be back on a regular update schedule. I try to post again in 2 weeks but I won't guarantee it


	13. It's Cold Out Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! Hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Kenma doesn’t touch any of the copious amounts of alcohol Bokuto brings over, and Kuroo decides that he won’t drink much either tonight. Of course Bokuto is downing sake and beer seemingly without pause, and even Akaashi is drinking a fair amount. Kuroo hopes that if at least he remains mostly sober, Kenma might be a little more comfortable.

As it is though, he doesn’t seem that uncomfortable. He doesn’t seem too anxious around Bokuto, even after he’s had his first few beers and has grown even louder and more animated than usual. He talks a little with Akaashi, but spends most of his time on his PSP. Kuroo knows he’s not really focused on the screen though. Every time Kuroo peers over Kenma’s shoulder, he sees the pause menu flashing across the screen. Even if he doesn’t want to actively participate in the conversation, he’s still listening and paying attention, and is maybe even somewhat interested in what the others are talking about.

After about two hours, long after Bokuto’s crossed the line from buzzed into flat out drunk, and even after Akaashi’s grown rather tipsy, Kenma turns off his PSP and sets it on the table. Bokuto cuts himself off mid sentence- it’s not like he was making much sense anyway- and turns wide eyes onto Kenma. He elbows Akaashi a few times to get his attention, despite that he already has Akaashi’s attention, and points to the PSP.

“It’s off!” he gasps. “So it _does_ turn off! I was starting to think there wasn’t even a power switch on that thing!”

“Of course it turns off, Bokuto-san,” Kenma murmurs, picking at the long sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yeah, but… I’ve never seen it off before!”

Kenma starts to fidget even more, his eyes glued to his hands in his lap. He sees Kenma twitch towards the PSP again, but manage to stop himself. Kuroo hurriedly draws the attention away from him. It’s not too hard to redirect Bokuto’s drunk mind.

“So Bo, how are Oikawa and Ushijima fairing on the same team?” Kuroo asks.

Kuroo can practically feel Kenma relax beside him and fights a smile. He nearly startles though when Kenma scoots into his side. Bokuto is rambling on about Oikawa and Ushijima, answering Kuroo’s question in much more detail than necessary, but it’s hard for Kuroo to focus on that answer. His heart is racing and he’s almost afraid Kenma can hear it when he leans his head against Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo shifts his arm out of the way a little, resting his hand on the floor behind Kenma, but being cautious not to touch him in return. He doesn’t want to push his luck.

When he looks back up, Akaashi is watching Kenma with a small smile on his face. It’s a proud smile, and when his eyes flash up to meet Kuroo’s, the smile grows a little. Kuroo can’t help but return it.

“-but despite all their messing around, they actually play really well together,” Bokuto is saying. “In our last game, we annihilated, and it was all thanks to Oikawa’s sets and Ushijima’s spikes. And mine too of course!”

“Of course,” Akaashi smiles, leaning into Bokuto. Bokuto’s wild gestures stop as his arm comes up to wrap around Akaashi waist and pull him a little closer, almost as if it’s instinctual. He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Of course! And- hey, we have a game Friday night. You should come!” Bokuto says enthusiastically.

“Yeah, if I can get that night off work, I’ll definitely come. Maybe this time I can actually meet the team after?” Kuroo asks, remembering that last time Kuroo hadn’t been able to stick around after the match. It had been a day match and he had work right after.

“Absolutely! You could even catch up with Daichi,” he says suggestively. “Suga will probably be there also. I know it’s been years since you’ve seen either of them. You should come too, Kenma!”

Kenma tenses again, and this time Kuroo feels it against his side. “Uhm, sure,” he mutters though, and both Kuroo and Akaashi look at him in surprise.

“Really?!” Bokuto gasps as if he can’t believe it either, despite being the one to suggest it. “Awesome! I’ll get you all comp tickets.”

Bokuto immediately launches into another long monologue about the team and really anything else that pops into his head. Kuroo tries to listen, but he’s also focused on Kenma, waiting to see if he’ll relax again. He doesn’t, his body still tense against Kuroo’s side, and Kuroo tries to decide if he should call it a night. He’s a little afraid that Kenma might leave and go back to his own apartment, and possibly not come back that night. That’s the last thing Kuroo wants.

But he doesn’t have to say anything. Akaashi cuts Bokuto off with a few fingers over his lips. “It’s late, and I know he’ll go on forever. Do you mind if we stay here tonight, Kuroo-san? Perhaps like last time with Bokuto here and myself with Kenma-san?”

“Oh, uhm…” Kuroo hesitates in voicing his objections. He doesn’t know if he should tell Akaashi that Kenma doesn’t want to sleep in his own apartment yet. Or perhaps Kenma would be fine there if Akaashi is with him, and Kuroo doesn’t want to be presumptuous. He also doesn’t know how to ask Kenma in front of both Bokuto and Akaashi. What if he doesn’t want either of them to know that he is still having trouble sleeping in his own apartment?

“You and Bokuto-san can sleep in my apartment,” Kenma says, speaking before Kuroo can figure out what to say. All three pairs of eyes turn on him and he ducks his head, his fingers pulling at the hem of his sweatshirt. “I haven’t moved back into my apartment yet, and my stuff is still here, so it just makes sense for me to stay here again tonight. If that’s okay with you, Kuro.”

“Of course,” is Kuroo’s immediate response. He wishes he could just tell Kenma that he’d never not be okay with Kenma staying here.

“Oh, alright then, thank you Kenma-san,” Akaashi says as he gets to his feet, hauling Bokuto up with him.

Kuroo lightly pats at Kenma’s back as a warning that he’s about to stand too, and the blond leans away from him. Kuroo stands and loops Bokuto’s other arm over his shoulders.

“Goodnight, Kenma-san,” Akaashi says as they start dragging a very drunk Bokuto towards the door. “I’ll come by tomorrow and we can go through the hard drives to double check everything, and maybe get some more work done too.”

Kenma nods and ignores Bokuto’s overly loud shout of goodnight, heading into the bedroom, most likely to get ready for bed. As soon as the three of them are out of the apartment, Akaashi turns a curious glance on Kuroo.

“Kenma is still staying with you?” he questions.

Kuroo nods. “Last night, after we collected all his things, he came back to my place. I guess he’s not comfortable sleeping in his place yet.”

Akaashi seems to accept that, and lets it drop. His cheeks are still quite flushed from the alcohol, so maybe he’d rather not discuss the situation while intoxicated. Kuroo half hopes that he won’t want to discuss it while sober either. Kuroo himself isn’t quite sure what is happening between him and Kenma right now. He doesn’t need Akaashi’s curiosity on top of that.

Kuroo doesn’t stick around in Kenma’s apartment longer than it takes for him to dump Bokuto into Kenma’s bed. While he’s there though, he grabs a couple of Kenma’s blankets- after being assured by Akaashi that he won’t need them with Bokuto as his personal space heater- remembering how cold Kenma had been last night.

When he steps back into his apartment, Kenma is already in bed burrowed under the covers. He doesn’t look out from underneath them when Kuroo lays the blankets over his bundled form. He merely hums in content and curls up further.

As Kuroo changes in the bathroom, he decides that it was a very good idea he didn’t let himself get drunk like Bokuto and Akaashi. He’s about to crawl back into his bed with Kenma and if he were any less sober than he is right now, any less in control of his own faculties, he might end up doing or saying something he regrets. As it is he’s having a hard time calming his racing heart. It doesn’t matter that they’ve done this once before, just the thought of sharing a bed again with Kenma is enough to have his excitement skyrocketing.

As he puts his toothpaste away, Kuroo catches sight of his anti-depressants in the medicine cabinet. He eyes them for a moment, but then closes the cabinet without removing the bottle. He’s too happy with his current situation right now to need them, anyway.

…

When Kuroo wakes, the sun has only barely started to light the sky. It filters in through the window above his bed, and Kuroo shields his eyes from it. Kenma is still sound asleep, curled beneath all those blankets. Kuroo can feel the warmth radiating from the bundle and wonders how Kenma can tolerate being so hot.

He feels like a creep for doing it, but he watches Kenma sleep for a while. It’s not so much that he makes the explicit decision to watch Kenma sleep, more that he just can’t get himself to crawl out of bed. His body is heavy, his mind weighing him down. And he’s tired. So tired. He knows what this means. He knows he’s slipping back down that steep slope. He should’ve taken his pills last night. Maybe he wouldn’t be so low now.

But how can he be low? Here, with Kenma in his bed, within reach? He can see Kenma’s face peeking out from the covers, his features relaxed in sleep, so peaceful. If he were to simply extend his fingers, he’d be able to touch that soft hair, brush it from his eyes. Why isn’t this enough to keep him from falling? It should be. He can feel that love, that adoration, burning deep in his chest. That hasn’t gone away, it hasn’t changed, but he can’t embrace it. He can’t react to it. It’s just… there.

What eventually pulls him out of bed is his craving for a smoke. He had always thought his smoking was linked to his painting. And they always had been. It wasn’t until he stopped smoking while painting while Kenma was staying with him that he realized he might be more addicted than he originally thought. So he stands, grabs his pack of smokes and a lighter, and pads out onto the balcony in nothing but his sweats.

His cigarette is long finished, but he doesn’t step back inside, despite the cool morning air chilling his bare skin. He stares down at the city below, at the other towering buildings around him. It’s quite early, but cars still pass by on the street, and people hurry along the sidewalk. If he leans over the railing a little, he can see the trash collector behind the building where Kenma’s cats live. If he leans even more he can see a small potted cactus on a little table on the balcony below his. If he were to lean a little more, would it be enough to send him over the edge?

The sliding door behind him opens and Kuroo startles, turning to see Kenma stepping out onto the balcony. He has a fluffy blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders, pulled up over his head, and he huddles close to Kuroo’s side. Kuroo lets him, and his arm finds a place around the small body, as if completely naturally.

“It’s cold out here,” Kenma mutters, looking down over the railing, presumably to try and find whatever it was Kuroo had been looking at.

“You can go back inside,” Kuroo responds. He doesn’t mean for it to be so derisive, but it comes out a little hard. He really doesn’t want Kenma to see him like this.

Kenma shrugs, and Kuroo feels it beneath his arm and the thick blanket. “But you’re out here.”

Something lances through Kuroo’s cold heart. It aches slightly at those soft words. Kenma wants to be in Kuroo’s company, despite being uncomfortable in the cold. It would warm Kuroo a little if he didn’t catch the way Kenma glances at him. He eyes Kuroo quickly, but cautiously, as if he is worried. Worried about what though? Is Kuroo not as good at hiding his mood as he thought he was? Did Kenma see him leaning over the raining and think exactly what Kuroo had been thinking?

“Well, let’s go back inside then,” Kuroo says, stepping back from the railing.

Back inside the warmth of the apartment, Kenma sheds the blanket and tosses it back onto the bed. Kuroo heads straight for the kitchen to start making breakfast for the two of them. Neither says a word all through breakfast, and for hours after. Kuroo knows that Kenma suspects something is wrong, considering how many glances Kenma sends his way when he thinks Kuroo isn’t paying attention. But Kenma doesn’t say anything about it, and Kuroo doesn’t care enough to try and start a conversation to distract him. They simply sit in silence, Kuroo watching with unseeing eyes as Kenma plays a game on Kuroo’s Play Station.

Kuroo isn’t sure how long they had been sitting there in silence, but he’s pulled out of the darkness of his own mind when the music echoing from the television stops and Kenma places the controller on the table.

“I have to go to my therapy session,” Kenma says as he stands. “Then I’ll be at my apartment with Keiji to work on our game.”

Kuroo nods, not getting up from his spot on the couch. “I have work tonight,” he tells Kenma.

Kenma doesn’t offer a response, and after he gets himself ready, he leaves the apartment, leaving Kuroo all alone to his thoughts. He stares at the wall above the television, at the painting pinned to the wall there. His thoughts consume him, and what else would they be focused on other than Kenma? Kenma, and how much Kuroo doesn’t deserve him. How much Kenma needs someone so much stronger and more stable than himself. Staring at the painting long enough, and then at the canvases on his easels, gives him this weird sort of motivation. That combined with the ‘fuck it’ nature of his downswing drives him off of the couch and into the shower. He has a couple of hours to kill before his shift starts at work, so he might as well make them productive. If he’s going to be even half the man he wants to be for Kenma, if he wants to be at all worth Kenma’s time and energy, if he even has a hope of being strong and stable enough for Kenma, then he needs to stop being a coward and start doing what he came here to do.

He gathers up some of his best pieces- including the piece of Kenma’s apartment, the woman in the swamp, and even the one of the volleyball court- and collects them into his portfolio. He stares at the painting of the volleyball court for a long minute. He did give it to Kenma, but since he hasn’t had the chance to put it up in his apartment yet, it’s been sitting around in his own apartment. He hopes Kenma won’t mind him trying to get it into a gallery. Kenma’s praise of the painting revived his old pride in the painting, rekindled his hopes for it.

With all his best pieces rolled up and tucked into tubes inside his bag, and a binder of photographs of the rest of his works, he hits the streets. His nerves mix in a really strange way with his depression as he stands outside the first gallery. Part of him is nervous about getting rejected, and the other part of him couldn’t care less. It’s the latter of the two that finally convinces him to step into the gallery and present his work. It nulls the cowardice that’s been keeping him out of these galleries since he moved here.

As he steps into the gallery, he remembers Kenma’s words from weeks ago, back around when they first met. He hears his voice telling Kuroo that he needs to have confidence in his work, that self-confidence will sell his pieces.

With Kenma on his mind, he finds it very hard to get him off his mind again. It’s nothing unusual. Kenma has this way of invading his subconscious and burrowing in so deep that Kuroo has no hope of ever evicting him. Not that he even wants to. But sometimes it makes it exceptionally difficult for Kuroo to focus on what he’s supposed to be focusing on. It also leads him to make himself a startling promise, but one that settles deep in his chest with a severe sense of determination. If he sells even one painting today, if he gets even a small hint that he could be somewhat successful here, then he’s going to ask Kenma out on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm moving back home from Japan later this week. I'm hoping that when I get back, I'll be in a better place to sit down and finish chapters more frequently. I won't promise anything, but I'm hoping. Thank you all for being so patient.
> 
> Also: I know I've been super behind on responding to your comments. Everyone has been so nice sending them in, and I want you to know I read them all immediately and squeal over them. I'm going to go through right now and respond to all of them though! (also also: this is a reminder to please _not_ send me comments asking when I'm going to update or if I'm going to update soon. I get upset with myself about long delays enough as it is without being reminded. thank you)

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me at [bokusaka](http://bokusaka.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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